


Darkness Peering

by katling



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dreamscapes, Implications of torture, Light Angst, M/M, Old Gods, The Fade, battles, mentions of withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 06:02:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5323241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katling/pseuds/katling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the fall of Kinloch Hold, Cullen is deemed an unsolvable problem and relegated to a dead end role as Liaison to the Imperial Templars of Tevinter. In Tevinter, Dorian Pavus, Enchanter of the Minrathous Circle, scion to an ancient line of Dreamers and a disgrace in his father’s eyes, dreams of a darkness like no other. When these two young men meet, will they find a way to defeat the greatest evil either of them has ever seen or will they fall and allow a darkness unlike any other to consume all of Thedas?</p>
<p>Written for the dragonagebb's Reverse Big Bang over on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkness Peering

**Author's Note:**

> Just a few notes for this fic…
> 
> Firstly, this does touch on what happened to Cullen in Kinloch. It’s mostly implied and only lightly referenced but it is there
> 
> Secondly, there’s a lot of hoo-ha and retcons and disagreement about whether or not Templars need to use lyrium to access their abilities. So for the sake of the story, I’m making an executive decision that Templars _can_ use their abilities without lyrium but the Chantry doesn’t want them to know that because then they lose their way to leash their Templars
> 
> Thirdly, this fic assumes that Cullen still went to Greenfell but then he returned to Kinloch and was shipped off from there before Meredith could dig her claws into him, drag him off to Kirkwall and make matters worse. So he's broken and distrustful but he hasn't fallen down into the pit of anger and hatred as yet.
> 
> And now… watch the trailer, then read the fic!

  


[Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang Art #8](https://vimeo.com/146972102) from [Trickytricky](https://vimeo.com/user12912541) on [Vimeo](https://vimeo.com)

**Darkness Peering**

 

_Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. ~ Edgar Allan Poe_

 

Cullen’s first view of Minrathous was breathtaking. He didn’t want to admit it. Maker, he didn’t want to even be here, riding towards a city full of uncontrolled _mages_. But it was early morning and the sun had risen about an hour before and now it was glinting off the spires and towers and he swore he could see the magic at use in the city. It was beautiful and terrible and he both wanted to ride forward across the long bridge in front of him and turn his horse back towards Fereldan and spur it into a gallop.

But he couldn’t go back. The Order didn’t know what to do with him. He knew that much. He had overheard Knight-Commander Gregoir speaking with Lord Seeker Lambert in the healing wing. They had thought he was asleep under the influence of the potions he’d been given. But he’d palmed them, not wanting to be unconscious around mages, and pretended to be soundly asleep so he was in a position to hear the Knight-Commander and the Lord Seeker make a decision to wash their hands of him.

He couldn’t find it in himself to blame them. Gregoir had called in the Lord Seeker out of desperation, he knew that much. He’d been unstable ever since… well, ever he was rescued after the Tower fell. He hadn’t harmed anyone… yet. It was the ‘yet’ part of that sentence that’d had Gregoir worried. Cullen had spent the last six months at Greenfell, a calm quiet little Chantry with no mages in sight. It was supposed to help him recover but it hadn’t. He’d returned to Kinloch and less than a day later, he’d drawn his sword on two apprentices who’d startled him.

It had been the Lord Seeker that had suggested sending Cullen to Tevinter, to take up a position in the embassy there as liaison to the Tevinter Templars. It had seemed like a mad idea and Cullen was still not sure what the Lord Seeker was thinking. The two men had left the healing wing before he’d gotten that answer and when Gregoir had issued the orders the next day, he hadn’t explained either. He’d had no choice but to obey and from the look on Gregoir’s face when he left, nobody was ever expecting to see him again.

He sighed as he nudged his horse into motion and headed down to the bridge. The soldier in him was impressed by the bridge. Minrathous was set on an island off shore and this bridge was the only way on or off the island. Cullen could see that the bridge could be easily destroyed if the city was being threatened. He could only assume that the island was well stocked with supplies and had its own fresh water source. If so, it was eminently defensible.

At the end of the bridge there was a guard post and he came to a halt as one of the guards stepped out and eyed him calmly.

“Hold,” the guard said, his voice accented in a way Cullen hasn’t heard before. It was odd but not unpleasant. He thought he might come to like it at some point. “Identify yourself.”

Cullen pulled the papers he’d been given that authorised his status as Liaison to the Templar Order and handed them to the guard. “Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford,” he said. The promotion had come with the new position. He was too young and too inexperienced for it. He knew it. Everyone knew it. But he needed the rank for the position so he now had it. “I’m to report to the Fereldan Embassy.”

The guard looked over the papers then handed them back with a brisk salute. “Welcome to Minrathous, Knight-Captain. Take that road. You’ll find the embassy towards the end.”

Cullen gave a nod of thanks and nudged his horse into motion. He couldn’t help but shiver as he entered the city. This was a world where mages ruled and he couldn’t help the sick swooping feeling that rushed through him. He’d seen what happened when mages were in charge and it wasn’t pretty. He couldn’t see how Minrathous could be any better. There was a tiny sensible, fair and just voice in his mind telling him he was being unfair but the far louder panicky voice of his fears and the remembrance of what had happened at Uldred’s hand was too good at drowning it out.

As he rode down the street the guard had directed him to, he became aware of another aspect of Tevinter he’d forgotten about. As he rode, he passed elves and even some humans who were wearing collars. For a moment his mind went blank then he realised what they were – slaves. He’d allowed himself to forget about the slavery in his thoughts of mages. He looked at the slaves again and a wave of revulsion flooded through him. They looked beaten and downtrodden, cowed and controlled. His hand itched to take his sword to every damn mage in the city but common sense prevailed. 

By the time he reached the embassy, he felt twitchy and anxious and it was with relief that he found himself greeted with familiar accents and words of welcome. He was given a chance to settle into his assigned rooms and then he was taken to meet the Ambassador, a man in his fifties who was apparently related to the late King Maric.

“Teyrn Theodore Haverth, Fereldan Ambassador to Tevinter,” the Ambassador said, holding out one hand.

“Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford,” Cullen replied, shaking the Ambassador’s hand.

“Welcome,” Theodore said, gesturing for Cullen to sit before taking his own seat. “We’re always glad to have someone new join our little group of pariahs.”

Cullen blinked with surprise. “Pariahs?”

The Ambassador chuckled. “We’ve all been abandoned here, one and all. Unwanted and shunted off to the furthest, least attractive place you could ever find. I made the mistake of insulting Loghain one time too many and the best Maric could do for me was to send me here.” He smiled wryly. “I won’t ask you what you did but we try and keep ourselves a fairly cohesive group here. The damn Vints like looking down their noses at us so get used to being called a Dog Lord. They mostly do it behind our backs but every now and then one of them will call us that to our faces.”

“I… uh, didn’t realise,” Cullen said, his spirits falling even further at the news.

“We’re not fancy enough or magic enough for them,” Theodore said with a snort. “But you shouldn’t do too badly. The Templars are a mixed bunch but the Knight-Commander at the Minrathous Circle is eager to meet you. Valerius Galeria is his name. He asked if you’d attend him tomorrow morning. I accepted on your behalf. I hope you don’t mind?”

Cullen shook his head. “No, that’s fine, though I’ll admit I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to be doing here.”

The Ambassador leaned back in his chair. “That’s up to you. We’ve never had a direct Templar liaison before and neither have any of the other embassies. That’s why Galeria is so interested. They’ve heard a lot of stories about our Templars. I’ll leave things up to you but my door is always open if you want to talk or get some advice.”

“Thank you.” Cullen hesitated for a moment. “Uh… the Chantry here…”

“It’s an interesting experience,” Theodore said wryly. “I’d recommend attending a service at the main Chantry here at least once but we have our own Chantry in the Embassy.” He looked down at his desk and frowned momentarily. “Oh, I have a ball to attend at the Argent Spire in four days. I’d like for you to accompany me. The Black Divine, Urian Nihalias, and Archon Radonis will be there, along with everyone who is everyone. It’s a good opportunity to show your face to everyone you need to in one hit.”

Cullen shifted awkwardly in his chair. He hadn’t liked attending social functions even before Kinloch fell and this ball would be wall to wall mages. However he’d never shirked his duty before because he didn’t like it. Surely he could bring himself to tolerate these people for one night?

“Of course, my Lord.”

The Ambassador smiled. “It’s Theodore inside these walls, Cullen. I don’t stand on ceremony in this blasted city.” He stood again. “Now, I’ll let you get properly settled in. Don’t hesitate to ask anyone you see for help. The building is a bit of a rabbit warren until you get used to it.”

“Thank you.” Cullen got to his feet and shook the Ambassador’s hand again. He left the office and gave a sigh. He was here now and he couldn’t go back. He supposed he was just going to have to get used to all of this.

******

Dorian stared down at the book on the table in front of him but he hadn’t taken in a single word. He’d woken up that morning feeling unsettled and uncertain. He was convinced he’d had the strangest dream but he couldn’t remember what it was. He just remembered a sense of _presence_ and words spoken that he couldn’t understand. It was maddening but he was convinced that something about the dream was important.

“Are you actually reading that book or are you using it as a prop to further your ‘mysterious intellect’ persona?”

Dorian gave a start and looked up to see his best friend, Felix Alexius, standing next to the table. The younger man was grinning at him, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Who says I’m not doing both?” Dorian asked, rallying as best as he could. “I can’t be a mysterious intellect if I don’t actually read.”

Felix laughed and dropped into the chair on the opposite side of the table. “No, seriously, Dorian, what’s going on? Because I was standing there for about five minutes and you didn’t turn a single page.”

Dorian sighed and ran a hand down his face. “I had… well, I don’t know what to call it. I’d say it was a dream but I can’t remember a damn thing.”

“We don’t always remember our dreams,” Felix said with a shrug.

Dorian frowned. “But I feel like I ought to remember this one. That it was important.”

“Important? How?”

“I don’t _know_!” Dorian burst out before lowering his voice when a nearby mage glared at him. “I don’t know, Felix. I just feel like I should have understood it.”

“But you can’t even remember it,” Felix replied. “How are you supposed to understand it?”

Dorian sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He then made a frustrated noise and straightened the hair he’d just put out of place. “I don’t know.”

“Have you spoken to Father? He might be able to help.”

“I can’t even explain it articulately,” Dorian grumbled.

“So?” Felix said. “Father won’t care. You know what he’s like with a puzzle and you’re a direct descendent of the ancient Dreamers. Maybe that has something to do with it?”

Dorian groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Don’t say that,” he said, his voice muffled. “I don’t need _another_ way to be different and _not_ what my father wants in a son.”

Felix was silent and he gave Dorian a sympathetic look. He knew all about the difficulties between Dorian and his father. He was one of the few Dorian had ever trusted with that information. He had no idea how it could be fixed, if that was even possible. His father had told him that the best thing he could do was simply be there as a support for Dorian and that’s what he tried to do.

“Or you could do nothing and drive yourself up the wall,” he suggested lightly.

Dorian raised his head far enough to glare at him over his fingers. “You’re being very unhelpful.”

Felix grinned. “I think I’m being _very_ helpful. I’ve suggested speaking to my father or ignoring it. What more do you want?”

“Ugh,” Dorian said before giving a sigh. “Alright, alright, I’ll speak to your father.”

Felix pulled out his books. “Good. Because I have to study and your mooning would make that very difficult.”

“Hmph,” Dorian said, getting to his feet and affecting a frown. “I can see where I stand in your world. It’s alright. Everyone hates me, nobody loves me, guess I’ll go eat worms.”

Felix laughed helplessly. “Since when did you turn _five_ , Dorian?”

“Shush!”

Both young men started at the annoyed admonition from the nearby mage and Felix then smothered a smile. He waved a hand at Dorian. And said quietly, “Go on. Before you get us both thrown out.”

Dorian grinned back at him and gathered up his books. He made his way out of the library and through the Circle building to Gereon Alexius’ office. He knocked and opened the door when the older mage called for him to enter.

“Dorian,” Gereon said with a smile, rising to his feet. He gestured for Dorian to sit down. “What brings you here? I thought we’d sorted out the problem with your research.”

Dorian felt himself relax in way that was very rare anywhere other than his set of rooms at the Circle. He always relaxed with Gereon and he had more than once secretly wished that the man was his father instead of Halward Pavus. He didn’t care that being a Pavus meant that he was an Altus, descended from the Dreamers of old. That he had a rank that many in Minrathous could only envy. Halward and Aquinea Pavus had a cold and distant marriage and had placed so many expectations on Dorian’s shoulders that even if he hadn’t been who and what he was, even if he’d been the most perfect son ever, he doubted he could have lived up to them. Gereon Alexius actually loved his wife and he had a warm, loving relationship with his son. Dorian tried not to envy Felix too much but it was hard at times.

“I…” Dorian frowned as he tried to find the words he wanted. “I had a strange dream last night but the problem is I can’t remember it. I just know it felt… important. That I should have understood what I was being told.”

He was completely and utterly relieved when Gereon took him seriously and instead of shooing him out the door, he leaned back in his chair and looked at Dorian with interest.

“You were being told something?”

Dorian nodded slowly. “Yes. I think so anyway. I can’t remember but I _feel_ like I was and that it was important.” He grimaced when he saw Gereon open his mouth. “And I was sober last night. So it’s not that.”

Gereon raised an eyebrow at him. “I wasn’t going to suggest that, Dorian. You’re descended from the Dreamers. Did you feel like you could control what you were seeing?”

Dorian shook his head. “I don’t think so but I can’t say for sure.”

Gereon looked thoughtful. “Let me see what I can find about the Dreamers. In the meantime, keep a journal beside your bed and try and write down your dreams the moment you wake, especially if you have one of these dreams again.”

Dorian shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “You think I’m a Somniari?”

“I don’t know, Dorian,” Gereon replied. “There are still a few around, though they tend not to draw attention to the ability. Let me look around, ask a few questions, see what I can find.”

Dorian nodded and got to his feet. “Thank you.”

Gereon smiled. “Not at all. You know I love a good magical puzzle.”

Dorian smiled weakly and headed out of the office, wishing just for once that his life could be boring. Then he snorted quietly. Boring. If his life was boring, he’d probably do something stupid all by himself to change that fact.

*******

Cullen made his way to the Circle the morning after he arrived in Minrathous and presented himself at the office of the Knight-Commander. The man’s adjutant nodded respectfully and gestured for him to follow. He opened the door to the office behind his desk and announced Cullen.

“Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford of Fereldan, ser!”

“Send him in.”

Cullen walked into the office and saw the man attached to the voice who was just rising from his seat. Knight-Commander Valerius Galeria was probably a good four inches shorter than Cullen but he was muscular and solid, even more so in his armour. Cullen had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to best the Knight-Commander in a fight even with his added height and reach. The armour itself was… garish. It was at its heart solid and utilitarian but it was swathed in gaudy coloured fabric that made it look little more than ornamental.

“Knight-Captain,” Galeria said, coming around and offering his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

Cullen shook hands with the man and realised that Galeria was very serious about what he’d said. He was pleased to meet Cullen. It left him feeling momentarily off balance. He’d been expecting to be mocked or looked down upon or at the very least treated like he was some sort of strange beast.

“I… thank you, ser.”

Gelaria gestured for him to sit then resumed his seat behind the desk. “I’ve heard a great deal about the Templars in the south. I was hoping you’d be willing to answer a few questions, if you’re permitted.”

“I’ll… answer what I can,” Cullen said as he sat down. 

Galeria leaned forward intently. “They say you can… control mages.”

Cullen shifted awkwardly in his seat and licked his lips. He hadn’t quite expected Galeria to leap into the deep end right off the bat but he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Those abilities would be the most interesting for someone living in a world where mages ruled. 

“No, not control. I wouldn’t say that.” He just _wished_ they could do that. It might have changed what had happened in Kinloch. “We _can_ … uh, stop them. We have abilities that allow us to silence them and nullify their magic. More… more advanced versions of the abilities can actually injure the mages.”

Galeria leaned back in his seat with a satisfied look on his face as though Cullen had confirmed something he’d wanted to hear. He arched an eyebrow at Cullen. “I gather you already know that won’t make you very popular here.”

Cullen nodded. “So I’ve been told. The Ambassador wants me to accompany him to a ball at the Argent Spire in a few days. He says I’ll be able to meet everyone who’s everyone there.”

Galeria snorted and nodded. “Yes, you will and it’s probably a good idea to get it all done at the one time and under the Archon’s gaze. I’ll be there as well so the pit won’t be completely full of vipers.”

“They won’t do anything with the Archon there?” Cullen asked, wanting to get a feel for just how dangerous the world that he’d just stepped into was.

Galeria paused for a moment. “Well, I wouldn’t say that but they wouldn’t do anything to anyone with diplomatic credentials under the Archon’s gaze. Most of Tevinter doesn’t much care about Fereldan but your Ambassador has very good relations with the Ambassadors from Orlais, Antiva and Rivain. If we were to offend him enough to make him withdraw, the others are likely to follow, both on principle and for the manoeuvring room it would offer. The Archon wouldn’t be too impressed if he had to hand out concessions to Fereldan, Orlais, Rivain and Antiva in order to smooth ruffled feathers. He’s got some very efficient assassins at his disposal for situations like that and he’s never been afraid of using his relationship with the First Enchanter to force us to wield the brand.”

Cullen frowned. “You use the Rite of Tranquility here? I would have thought…”

“That mages wouldn’t use that sort of weapon against each other?” Galeria said dryly. “Maybe in the south but the mages here are pretty vicious with each other at times. The Rite is used more as punishment for political enemies than anything else.”

“You don’t have trouble with mages getting possessed?” Cullen asked a little hesitantly.

“Not really,” Galeria replied. “And when it happens, the mages deal with it pretty swiftly. Mages here aren’t taught to fear themselves or their magic or the Fade. They’re taught about demons and the dangers of them and how to combat them. It seems to work.”

Cullen didn’t know what to make of that and memories of what had happened while he was imprisoned by Uldred reared up before he firmly squashed them down. Now was not the time to allow them to dominate.

At any rate, Galeria didn’t let him dwell on it. He got to his feet and nodded towards the door. “Let me give you a bit of a tour.”

Cullen scrambled to his feet and let the Commander lead him out of the office and into the corridor. He had been surprised to see that the Circle wasn’t a tower here but instead seemed to be something entirely different. 

“This building dates back to prior to the founding of Tevinter,” Galeria said as they walked along the corridor. “It used to be a temple to one of the Old Gods, Razikale, but after the Chantry was founded here, the worship of the Old Gods disappeared and the building was given the Circle.”

“I was wondering about that,” Cullen said, trying not to gawk at the murals and the statues that were scattered along the corridor. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I’m not surprised,” Galeria said. “I’m not sure worship of the Old Gods ever reached too far south. There are lots of ancient buildings like this all throughout Minrathous. A lot of them are mouldering old ruins on the verge of falling down, some are being held together by magic alone and others, like this one, have actually been maintained. If you’re interested in finding out more about them, I know a few people who’d be willing to give you a tour.”

Cullen had never really been interested in history or architecture but he recognised it might be a good opportunity to learn more about this city he was stuck in.

“I’d like that.”

Galeria was about to reply when the approach of two people made him fall silent and his air went from the casual one he’d had since Cullen walked in the door to something more professional, though there was an interesting glint in his eyes as though he was viewing the approach of the two men with anticipation.

“Magister Alexius. Enchanter Pavus,” he said with a small bow. “May I present Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford from Fereldan?”

Cullen gave a small bow and took a good look at the mages. The elder of the two was perhaps in his fifties and still quite handsome. He looked at Cullen with active interest and curiosity. The younger mage looked to be about Cullen’s age and was extremely handsome. He was watching Cullen with a great deal more wariness than the Magister but he also seemed somewhat preoccupied.

“Delighted to meet you, Knight-Captain,” Alexius said with a look on his face that said he knew how incongruous those words were given what he was and what Cullen was. “We’ve never had a southern Templar here in Tevinter before.”

“Uh, so I understand,” Cullen replied. “I think we’ve always assumed we wouldn’t be very welcome.”

“Only by the ignorant and fearful who think that everyone in the south are savages who attack first and think later,” Alexius replied amiably. It was both an observation and a warning.

“We generally try not to do that,” Cullen said. He was getting the impression that he was treading in some very deep waters here and he was surprised to find that was making him more nervous than the Magister was, though he couldn’t quite work out why. Maybe it was because those deep waters involved magic and the Magister, in person, seemed almost… benign. Certainly nothing like the cackling evil blood mage that everyone tended to think of when Tevinter arose as a topic of discussion.

Alexius chuckled. “I can imagine. Well, Dorian and I must be going so I’ll leave you in the Knight-Commander’s very capable hands. I hope you enjoy your stay in Tevinter, Knight-Captain.”

The Magister gave them a nod and continued down the corridor, the younger mage at his shoulder. Galeria waited until they were out of earshot then nudged at Cullen to get him moving again.

“Magister Gereon Alexius has the potential to be an ally and possibly even a friend,” he said quietly. “He’s a lot more open-minded than a lot of the Magisters.”

Cullen nodded in understanding. “So that warning was…”

“About some of the Magisters you’re likely to meet at the ball, yes,” Galeria replied. “Glad you picked up the fact it was a warning.”

“I’ll admit I’m not very skilled at this Game they say is played here,” Cullen said. “But I’m not stupid.”

“You’re young,” Galeria said with a chuckle. “You’re allowed to be inexperienced. Not that they’ll give you much leeway. Stick close to the Ambassador and trust his judgement. If he has to see to anything, I’ll come and stand guard or send a friend.”

Cullen wanted to feel offended but he suspected he would be very grateful for the advice and help. He wasn’t inclined to let his ego get him into trouble when he would be surrounded by mages. He’d seen what happened to people who did that and he didn’t want the same fate as those Templars.

“Thank you,” he said with a sigh. “I’m probably going to get myself into trouble anyway.”

Galeria chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll try and keep that from happening.”

They turned off the main corridor into a smaller one and Galeria gestured around. “The Circle houses about a hundred apprentices at the moment and about double that in terms of Enchanters, Senior Enchanters and Magisters. Not every mage lives here of course and many just have an office or workroom here rather than any actual accommodations.”

“How many Templars are there?” Cullen asked.

“About fifty here at the Circle,” Galeria replied. “And about the same number on duty with the Archon and the Divine.” He arched an eyebrow at Cullen and looked amused. “You are aware that our Divine is a man?”

Cullen nodded and frowned. “That seems… odd.”

“I try not to get too involved in theological disputes,” the Knight-Commander said dryly as he directed Cullen down a flight of stairs. “That way lies fist fights I’ve often found. Besides, from what I can gather, it’s not really the gender of our Divine that is the key sticking point between us and the south. It’s our interpretation of Andraste and her role and that key phrase about mages.”

By now, they had descended two levels into what appeared to be a largely disused area of the building. Galeria came to a halt in front of a plain wooden door. He looked around briefly then pulled out a key and unlocked the door. He gestured for Cullen to go through then locked the door behind them. Cullen found himself standing at the top of a well-lit flight of stairs and he looked back at the Knight-Commander with wary curiosity.

“Head down,” Galeria said with a smile. “Trust me. We just have to keep this quiet.”

Cullen frowned then started walking down the stairs. They went down for a surprising distance and opened into a large room. Standing in the room was a small group of four Templars, standing around talking quietly with each other. They turned when Cullen and Galeria walked into the room and joined them.

“Cullen Rutherford,” Galeria said then he introduced the three men and one woman. “Cullen, these are Justinius Maran, Lucius Aquinius, Caius Festus and Tacita Rufina. They, along with myself, are members of the Order of Melodius.”

Cullen nodded in greeting to the four Templars. “What’s the Order of Melodius?”

“We’re a… sect of the Templars, you might say,” Galeria said. “I was going to wait before I introduced you but given those rumours about your abilities are true, I thought we might as well do this today. We can’t stay here long however.”

“We don’t usually meet at the Circle,” Tacita said dryly. “Too much of a chance of mages stumbling over us.”

Galeria picked up the thread of the conversation again. “You might have realised from my question earlier that Templars here in Tevinter don’t have the abilities you Southern Templars have. We are, in general, just glorified soldiers.” He gestured at the other four. “Except for the Order of Melodius. We’re trained in those abilities. Very few know of our existence and we answer to the Archon alone.”

Cullen’s eyes were wide. “Why the Archon?”

“Because we often act as personal bodyguards,” Lucius said. “Being the Archon is a great honour and the best way to paint an enormous target on your back. The Archon also cannot be seen to be using blood magic, even to the extent that it’s tolerated here in the Imperium. So the Archon is often not as powerful as his enemies.”

“And that’s where we come in. We can stop the Archon’s enemies in their tracks,” Caius said. “Not every Archon has made use of us. They’re mages after all and we give most mages the shivers.”

“The smart ones use us,” Tacita said with a snort. “The stupid ones get assassinated.”

“Well, no one in the south is aware of this as far as I know,” Cullen said with a shake of his head. “I guess they don’t keep close track of the lyrium supplies here if you’ve been able to stay hidden for so long.”

He got five very odd looks and then Galeria frowned. 

“Lyrium?” His eyes widened. “Maker’s balls. Then the stories are true? You take lyrium?”

Cullen nodded slowly. “Uh, yes. It… enhances our abilities.”

“It’s also addictive,” Tacita said with disgust.

Cullen shuddered as memories of Kinloch flooded back. They’d denied him food, water and lyrium and left him shaking with withdrawal on several occasions. They’d then taunted him with all three and forced him to beg and do… _things_ before they would let him have any of it.

“I know,” he said, swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat. The muscles in his shoulders crawled into knots and he felt the shadows in the room close in on him.

All five Tevinter Templars were looking at him with sharp-eyed concern. Galeria placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him to a nearby chair.

“Sit down, lad.” He crouched down next to Cullen and looked up at him with open worry. “I know the edges of panic when I see them. Just sit here and breathe. You’re safe. Nothing can get into this room without us knowing and stopping it in its tracks.”

Cullen ran a shaking hand down his face and he couldn’t help but contrast _this_ with how things had been at Kinloch. Gregoir had been concerned, it was true, but he’d been more interested in getting rid of the problem Cullen presented than helping in any way. Gregoir had just wanted his nice smoothly running Circle back and Cullen wasn’t part of that.

“The… the Circle in Fereldan fell,” he managed to get out.

“We heard,” Galeria said with a nod. “Blood magic, demons… the usual mess that happens when mages let things get out of hand. We don’t see that sort of thing often here but it does happen on occasion.”

Cullen flicked him a glance then continued while he still had the courage. “Some of us… the Templars… were trapped inside. Uldred… Uldred tortured and killed everyone. Except for me.”

“ _Kaffas_ ,” Lucius said, crouching down on the other side of Cullen to Galeria and placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him. He was the oldest of the four Templars Cullen had just been introduced to. “I’m not even going to bother asking how bad because that answer is pretty damn obvious.”

“Eventually the… the Hero of Fereldan arrived,” Cullen said. “She defeated Uldred.”

Galeria straightened and started pacing, leaving Lucius to look after Cullen. “Don’t tell me. They sent you here instead of helping?”

“I was a problem,” Cullen said bitterly. He rarely let it show but among these people – who should have been mocking the Southern barbarian, who he shouldn’t have anything in common with but who were instead showing more solidarity and sympathy than he’d ever had back in Kinloch – he felt like he could.

“So they send you into a land where mages rule?” Lucius said with a snort. When he continued his voice was laced with sarcasm. “That’s smart.”

“Actually it is in a way,” Tacita said sourly. “You know what many of the Magisters are like when they feel insulted. They’d apologise sweetly and offer reparations to the Ambassador _after_ they killed Cullen but he’d still be dead.”

“Just as well we got to him first then, eh?” Justinius said dryly.

“Enough,” Galeria said. He frowned at Cullen. “You are aware that you do not require lyrium to use these abilities?”

Cullen nodded. “From training, yes, but the enhancement using lyrium is… considerable.”

Galeria stepped back and gestured for Cullen to stand. “Show me.”

Cullen stood and looked around uncertainly. “They won’t…”

Galeria smiled wryly. “The mages won’t know. This place is too deep underground for anything we can do to affect them.”

Cullen nodded then drew his sword and pulled his shield into position. He paused to centre himself then with a shout, he moved through the steps to cast the full Spell Shatter. The Shatter flowed out from him strong and stable as always, a relief after all he’d been through, then he sheathed his sword and looked over at the Knight-Commander.

Galeria arched an eyebrow then repeated what Cullen had done. Much to his astonishment, Galeria’s Shatter was equally as strong as his had been, perhaps even stronger. _Without_ lyrium.

Galeria sheathed his sword and shook his head. “I think your Chantry has been lying to you, Cullen.”

Cullen swallowed, not liking the implication of that. But he couldn’t deny that he’d had his doubts about the Chantry more than once since Kinloch had fallen. His faith in the Maker and Andraste was still strong but his faith in the Chantry had been shaken and this was doing nothing to help rectify that.

“I… it’s too late,” he said with a bitter snort. “They say if you stop taking lyrium, you go mad or die.”

There were snorts and rolled eyes and other expressions of derision and contempt from those in the room. Not directed at him, Cullen could tell that, but they were strong nonetheless.

“Unsupported, yes,” Justinius said. “But why would anyone do it unsupported? There are potions that can ease the withdrawal symptoms.”

The decision suddenly crystallised in Cullen’s mind. He could see that the others were leading up to it, thinking he would need to be talked into it, but they were wrong. He remembered what it was like to be helpless to the withdrawal, to have something like that be a weakness that had been used against him so viciously. He didn’t want that to be able to happen again.

“What potions? How can I get them? How much would they cost?” he asked eagerly.

The Templars looked at him with surprise. “Are you sure?” Galeria asked. “Even with the potions, the first weeks of the withdrawal will be unpleasant.”

Cullen waved that away. “They… the mages at Kinloch… used it against me. They held the lyrium back from me and watched me suffer, made me…” He shuddered away from those memories. “They made me beg.”

The others scowled at that and Galeria nodded his understanding of the situation, both now and back then. “Very well. I know who to talk to about the potions. They won’t ask any questions.” He patted Cullen on the shoulder. “As for the cost? Nothing. Consider it a gift from the Order, both the Templars and the Order of Melodius.”

Cullen closed his eyes for a moment and bowed his head. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome,” Galeria replied then he gave Cullen a nudge towards the door. “Now come. Let’s head back upstairs so we can all look like ordinary respectable Templars and you can tell us more about the south. We get mostly second hand tales and rumour and hearsay. I’ve got more than a few things I’d like confirmed or debunked.”

********

“ _You are privy to a great Becoming_.”

Dorian woke with a gasp and sat bolt upright, staring into the darkness. He knew he was sweating from more than just the warmth of the night. That voice…

He swallowed and waved his hand, releasing a thread of magic to light the candles in the room. The warm glow of the candlelight was a balm to the panic and fear that was still racing through him. The voice in his dream had been… terrifying. He was more than willing to admit to that. It was the same dream he’d been having for the last week but tonight had been the first time the voice had been intelligible. It was the first time he’d been able to understand the words.

“You are privy to a great Becoming,” he murmured.

He threw back the sheet and got up, pulling on the thin silken robe he’d discarded before he’d gone to bed. He walked over to the tall glass doors that head out to the balcony that his position as an Enchanter of the Circle and Gereon Alexius’ protégé had gained him. The night was warm but the light breeze was cool as it drifted past him, drying the sweat on his skin.

The worst of the fear induced by the dream was fading but traces of it were lingering and he knew he would have to find Gereon as soon as possible in the morning. This was the sort of thing the older man would want to know and Dorian found himself hoping that Gereon had been able to find a Dreamer to help him. As much as the idea of being a Dreamer intimidated him, these dreams were far worse.

He returned to his room and sat down at his desk. He pulled a piece of paper over and picked up his pen, jotting down everything he could remember of the dream, from the images to the words and right down to how he had felt. He didn't want to forget any of it, no matter how small the detail. Once that was done he got up and returned to the balcony.

The sky was brightening as he watched but it had the feel of false dawn rather than true dawn. He grimaced and shuddered. He loathed being up so early but the idea of falling asleep again made his skin crawl. He didn’t want to get trapped in the dream again tonight. So instead he looked out over the great courtyard of the Circle and let his thoughts drift.

He was shaken out of them after a while by the sounds of armour clanking and low voices laughing and exchanging words. It was just before true dawn now and the Templars were coming outside for their morning training. He watched them warm up and his thoughts drifted to the Fereldan Templar he’d met a few days ago. He couldn’t remember the man’s name but he remembered what he’d looked like. Tall and rugged with the most delightfully curly blond hair. Handsome too, though he’d looked wary and uncertain, no doubt because he found himself in the midst of mages who wouldn’t bow and scrape to him. Dorian snorted at the very idea but then realised there had been something else about the blond Templar that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something… harried maybe. As though he’d seen something terrible and was still getting over it.

Dorian shook his head and turned abruptly, returning to his bedroom and shucking off his robe. He walked into the bathing room and quickly washed and shaved. He was clearly suffering from being up too early if he was inventing a dark and mysterious past for a savage Southern Templar. He wasn’t sure whether he was doing it to make the man more or less attractive.

He sighed as he drew on his clothes. He should not be thinking of any young man, let alone a Templar, as being attractive. Gereon had made it clear that while he didn’t view Dorian’s interest in men with the same contempt that his father did, he also wouldn’t tolerate any more of Dorian’s shenanigans. As such, his bed had been virtuously empty ever since his return to the Minrathous Circle and was likely to remain that way, handsome and barbaric Southern Templars notwithstanding.

He made his way to Gereon’s office for their customary breakfast. His mentor was a busy man and they had settled on breakfast as being the one time he could guarantee Dorian his full and undivided attention. Dorian also suspected it was a way of ensuring that he was staying on the straight and narrow since to attend breakfast, he needed to be in the Circle building and sober but he wasn’t really in a position to complain. He knocked on the door when he got there and entered at Gereon’s command.

The older man gave him one look then pointed to a chair. “Sit down, Dorian, and tell me what has happened.”

Dorian sighed and obeyed. “I had the dream again, only this time I could understand the voice.”

Gereon raised an eyebrow. “What did it say?”

“You are privy to a great Becoming,” Dorian said.

Gereon leaned back in his chair and considered the words. Dorian took the opportunity to pour himself a cup of tea and start in on the light breakfast Gereon had provided. 

“A great Becoming,” the magister mused. “I don’t suppose you got any sense of what this Becoming was?”

Dorian shook his head. “No. It was all… confused. There were other words but those were the only ones I understood.”

Gereon hummed and frowned. He tapped his fingers against the desk then sighed. “I have arranged for you to attend the Archon’s entertainment this evening. One of the Dreamers I’ve contacted will be there and has agreed to meet you.”

“At the entertainment?” Dorian said dubiously.

“He wishes for it to be at a public gathering,” Gereon replied. “He is… hesitant. It will be up to you to win him over. I recommend being honest.”

Dorian hesitated then nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Gereon raised an amused eyebrow at Dorian’s compliance then gestured towards the food. “Eat up and tell me how your research is going.”

Dorian took a pastry and began to discuss his work in necromancy with growing enthusiasm. Gereon asked a few pointed questions then made some further suggestions. Dorian nodded and the discussion continued until Gereon’s first meeting was imminent. Dorian took his leave and headed up to his carrel in the library. He devoted the rest of his day to his studies until it came time to dress for the entertainment.

He joined Gereon in the foyer of the Circle where they were joined by the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter as well as a small detachment of Templars and mages. The trip to the Argent Spire was uneventful and Dorian braced himself for the party. It was going to full of vipers and predators and his one saving grace was that his father wasn’t going to be there and thus he wouldn’t be forced to face the full weight of parental disapproval.

He suffered through the introductions and the initial wave of people who wanted to make themselves known to the First Enchanter and his entourage then he and Gereon were able to break away.

“Go and mingle,” Gereon said quietly. “I’ll find you when the Dreamer gets here.”

Dorian nodded and took a glass of wine from a passing slave. He slipped through the crowds with ease, making note of those whom he knew. Then as he continued to move through the various clots and gatherings of people, he saw a face he wasn’t expecting. The blond Fereldan Templar. The man was standing behind and just to the right of the Fereldan Ambassador and he looked delightfully uncomfortable. At first Dorian thought it must be at the company but then the Templar pulled awkwardly at his collar before snatching his hand away almost guiltily and Dorian realised it wasn’t just the company, it was the formal uniform the man was wearing. The uniform was Templar red and fitted him spectacularly. Dorian slid behind a group of Magisters and took a moment to simply ogle the Templar. He did look rather delicious in that uniform and the way the trousers clung so snugly to his backside was a true treat. He stared for a moment longer then rather regretfully continued through the gathering crowd. 

He’d been wandering around for nearly an hour, occasionally chatting with people who knew his father but mostly just watching the crowd, when Gereon appeared in his line of sight and gestured to him. He set his wine glass aside and made his way through the crowd to his mentor’s side.

“Come,” Gereon said shortly and led him to a side door. 

The door opened into a small library and standing over to one side, his hands clasped behind his back, was an elderly man. Gereon ushered Dorian in and bowed deeply. Dorian followed his mentor’s lead and then waited.

“Aquila, this is my protégé, Dorian Pavus,” Gereon said. “Dorian, this is Aquila Marcinius. I will leave you two alone.”

Gereon bowed to the elderly mage again then left the room. Dorian licked his lips and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. He hadn’t felt this nervous since the last time his father had pulled him out of a brothel.

“Dorian Pavus,” Aquila said, his voice strong and calm, belying his appearance. “Magister Alexius tells me you have been Dreaming.”

“I… don’t know, sir,” Dorian said respectfully. “I have been… dreaming certainly but what the dreams are or mean, I don’t know.”

The Dreamer smiled thinly and gestured for Dorian to sit down at a small table near the window. Once Dorian had seated himself, the Dreamer sat down opposite him.

“Tell me what you have been dreaming.”

Dorian did so, finishing with the latest dream and the words that had been spoken in it.

“A great Becoming,” Aquila said thoughtfully. He looked over at Dorian with narrowed eyes. “I don’t know what this Becoming is but I can say that you are a Somniari, a Dreamer.”

Dorian felt his shoulders slump. “I am?”

Aquila chuckled rustily. “You sound about as enthusiastic as I was when I found this out about myself. It’s not as bad as all that, Pavus. I will come to the Circle every day an hour after the midday meal. You have begun to Dream and now you must learn to control those Dreams. If you do not, they will come to control you.”

With that the Dreamer stood and strode out of the room. Dorian stayed where he was and ran a hand down his face. He felt a sick sense of despair about the whole thing and wondered how he was going to tell his father about it. Maybe Gereon would be willing to do it on his behalf?

He was about to get to his feet and return to his mentor when the door opened and someone slipped in and rested their forehead against the closed door, their hands bracing them. He raised an eyebrow and smiled then he raised the other eyebrow when he recognised the uniform. It was the Fereldan Templar and he didn’t look overly well.

“Are you alright?”

The Templar yelped and whirled around, reaching for a weapon that he wasn’t wearing. Dorian watched with interest as the man slowly dragged himself back under control. No one in Tevinter would dare be so open with their emotions, especially in a time and place like this. It was surprisingly endearing.

“Um… it’s Enchanter Pavus, isn’t it?” the Templar said. He’d regained a measure of calm but there was still something nervous thrumming under the surface.

“It’s nice to know I’m memorable,” he said lightly. He got up and sauntered over, holding out one hand. “Dorian Pavus. Delighted to meet you.”

The Templar stared at his hand as though it was a live snake then reached out and shook it. It was an amusing reaction and Dorian was tempted to poke at the man until he saw the look on his face. He had some excellent control once he made an effort but underneath was running a thread of genuine distress. Dorian was surprised to find that he wanted to calm the man down.

“Cullen… Cullen Rutherford,” the Templar said hesitantly.

Dorian gestured towards the armchairs at the other end of the room. “Shall we sit? I confess I’m not enthused about the party outside either and if we stay in this room a bit longer someone will notice we’re here and bring us some food and wine.”

Cullen hesitated then nodded. He pushed himself off the door and they made their way to the armchairs. As they did, they both saw the chess set that was standing on a table between the chairs. It had clearly been set up artistically, not because anyone was using it but Dorian saw the look of interest in the Templar’s eyes and made a snap decision.

“Do you play?” he said, gesturing towards chess set.

Cullen nodded. “Yes. My siblings and I used to play all the time and it’s popular among the Templars. Good way of learning strategy and tactics. You?”

“I do,” Dorian said with a smile. “Shall we?”

Cullen hesitated then nodded. They sat down and sorted out the pieces. Dorian plucked up two of the pawns and hid them in his hands, which he held out towards Cullen.

“Take your pick.”

Cullen tapped his left hand and Dorian turned it over and opened it to reveal the white pawn. They set the board up appropriately and Cullen made his first move. Dorian was just reaching for one of his black pieces when the door opened to reveal two slaves, one bearing a bottle of wine and two glasses and the other carrying a tray of varied hors d’oeuvres. They set them up next to the two men then exited the room as quietly as they’d entered it. Dorian poured them both a glass of wine then offered one to Cullen, only to find the Templar glaring at the door.

“Did the door offend you in some way?” he said lightly.

Cullen’s gaze jerked back to him and he could see the simmering anger in his eyes. “How can you just…” Cullen snapped then he visibly reined himself in and forced himself to subside.

Dorian frowned a little in confusion, trying to work out what had the man so suddenly angry. “Are you alright?”

Cullen drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s nothing,” he said tightly then he gestured towards the board. “Your move.”

Dorian was very sure it wasn’t nothing but since the Templar didn’t seem inclined to talk about it and they hardly knew each other well enough for him to press, he did as had been suggested and made a move.

The next few moves were made in silence until Dorian couldn’t stand it any longer. “I take it you’re not one for parties?”

Cullen glanced up at him momentarily. “I… not really and not… not like this.”

As Dorian watched, the Templar rubbed his forehead wearily and winced. Once again the impression that the man was unwell was reinforced. 

“I don’t think anyone other than us has parties like this,” he said idly. “Still, at least we’ll avoid all the bloodshed and screaming when it starts.”

Cullen looked at him with wide-eyes. “When? What… what are you talking about?”

“It’s only a matter of time before someone starts sacrificing slaves and the blood magic begins,” Dorian said with an idle wave of his hand. “It always happens. It’s terribly gauche.”

He was greeted with silence and he looked up to find Cullen staring at him with appalled shock and a slightly sick expression. He reviewed his words and grimaced.

“That… does sound a touch awful, doesn’t it?”

“A touch awful?” Cullen said, his voice rising in horror. He suddenly winced and his hand went to his forehead again. “How can…?”

“It’s normal,” Dorian replied. He frowned and leaned back in his chair. “I… wouldn’t say it was good or even right but… it’s the way things are.”

Cullen was about to reply when there was a soft knock at the door and one of the Circle servants walked in carrying a small vial. The servant came over to Cullen and bowed, offering the vial delicately.

“Knight-Captain Rutherford? Knight-Commander Galeria said you should drink this directly.”

“Thank you,” Cullen said with a wan smile, taking the vial.

The servant bowed again and somehow managed to hurry out of the room without looking like he was rushing. Cullen watched him go then uncorked the vial and swallowed the contents. As he did, Dorian half-rose with a strangled noise, one hand reaching out to try and stop him. Cullen grimaced and recorked the vial, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket. Only then did he see the stricken look on Dorian’s face and he frowned with confusion.

“What?”

“You just drank that,” Dorian said, sinking back into his seat, his eyes wide.

“ _Yes_?” Cullen said slowly. “The Knight-Commander said he was going to send for it when he told me to find some place quiet for a while.”

Dorian looked appalled. “But… you didn’t even check!”

“Why would I?” Cullen asked, his expression one of growing bafflement.

“Someone could have poisoned you, you daft man!” Dorian threw his hands in the air. “It’s not a party in Tevinter unless there’s at least three attempted poisonings and you’re a Southern Templar!”

“I… but it was the right one,” Cullen said in a small, slightly stunned voice.

“ _Vishante kaffas_ ,” Dorian said, gesturing imperiously. “Give me that vial.”

Cullen was still looking like someone had hit him on the side of the head with a board and he obediently pulled the vial out of his pocket and handed it over. Dorian uncorked it and sniffed at it, then slid his little finger around the inside of the neck to gather some of the remaining liquid. He touched his finger to his tongue then looked at the Templar with surprise.

“Why are you taking this potion?” he demanded.

Neither man had seen the door open and the Knight-Commander step inside.

“With all due respect, Enchanter Pavus, I’m not sure that’s any of your business,” Galeria said with calm politeness.

Both Dorian and Cullen gave a start and Cullen half-rose from his chair until Galeria waved at him to sit down.

“Perhaps not, Knight-Commander,” Dorian said imperiously. “But considering he just drank the damn thing in front of me without even checking that it was legitimate, I feel I’m owed some sort of recompense for the heart attack I just had. I’m sure there are people who would love to think I had poisoned a Southern Templar.”

Cullen was surprised to see that the Knight-Commander just looked faintly amused. He’d somehow thought that everyone here who had no magic would have to bow and scrape and obey every order the mages gave. Though now that he thought about it, that wasn’t very plausible. Perhaps he’d been doing a little stereotyping of his own.

“It’s Templar business,” Galeria said firmly. He then bowed slightly. “But the Order thanks you for your concern, Enchanter Pavus. Now, if I might have a word with the Knight-Captain…?”

“We were in the middle of a chess game,” Dorian replied.

He wasn’t quite sure why he was being so recalcitrant about this. Although he had the title of Enchanter and the Knight-Commander wasn’t even a mage, he was still outranked by the man, even more so when the faint stench of scandal that still hung about his name was taken into consideration. But he couldn't help but remember that air of distress that had been hanging about Cullen ever since he walked in the door; something he suspected had a source other than the plethora of mages and blood mages outside the door. He found himself wanting to make sure Cullen was alright. It was dangerous. He knew it was dangerous but… he found himself drawn to the man.

Galeria had been watching the young Enchanter with a dry cynical air then he turned to Cullen. “Well? It’s your business we’re talking about here.”

Cullen was torn. As far as he was concerned too many people knew about his problems as it was and yet… Dorian had been friendly and even genuinely concerned just before when he thought Cullen might have swallowed poison.

“You have my word that I won’t use it against you,” Dorian said. He smirked a little. “I know you might not put much strength in a promise from a Tevinter mage but I do take such things rather seriously.”

Galeria gave him a long look then said, “Enchanter Pavus does not have a reputation for being indiscrete.” He paused and arched an eyebrow then continued very dryly, “Not with other people’s secrets anyway.”

Cullen was surprised when Dorian blushed and a stricken look momentarily washed across his face. The mage shot a glare at Galeria then composed himself. However Cullen could see that a sort of deep heavy misery had settled itself in the depths of Dorian’s grey eyes and he found himself reacting to that more than anything else. He didn’t like that look. It reminded him far too much of what he’d seen in his own eyes far too often recently.

“It’s alright,” he said quietly.

He could have sworn that the look Galeria gave him was one of approval but it was lost as the man pulled up a chair and sat down.

“How’s the head feel now?” he said to Cullen.

“Better,” Cullen replied. “But I still feel…”

“Yes?” Galeria prompted.

“Like I’m about to crawl out of my skin.”

Galeria sighed. “I’m afraid there’s not much that can be done about that. You’ll just have to grit your teeth and get through it. If it’s any consolation, it should pass in a few days. The first couple of weeks of withdrawal are always the worst.”

Dorian had been listening to the conversation intently and now he frowned. “Withdrawal?”

“Lyrium,” Cullen said softly. “Templars in the south take lyrium.”

“ _Kaffas_ ,” Dorian spat. “What fool put that in place?”

“Look at the Chantry and you’ll probably find the fool,” Galeria said, his austere manner softening a little at Dorian’s reaction. “But it’s probably so far lost in the mists of time that it’s pointless getting angry about it.”

Dorian looked at Cullen. “How long have you been off?”

“Only a few days,” Cullen replied. “The last dose I took was the day I got here.”

“It’s going to get a bit worse before it gets better,” Galeria said with gruff sympathy. “But you don’t have any official duties lined up, do you?”

“Not at the moment,” Cullen replied. “At least, not after tonight.”

“Good. They train us to endure so put that to use in the next couple of weeks and you’ll be the better for it.” Galeria got to his feet. “Give yourself another half an hour…” He looked down at the chess board. “Or however long the game takes. Then get yourself back to the Embassy and rest as much as you can.”

“I’ll see that he gets there,” Dorian said without thinking. He didn’t regret the offer though once he realised what he’d said.

Galeria gave him another long look then nodded. “Thank you, Enchanter Pavus.”

He nodded to each of them and left the room. Silence settled for a moment then Dorian gave Cullen an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have pushed like that. We hardly know each other after all.”

Cullen shrugged. “It’s alright.” He smiled wryly. “I keep being surprised by this place. I didn’t expect…” He gave a wave of one hand. “Well, most of it.”

Dorian snorted. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll live down to your expectations eventually. You’ve been here less than a week. You’re still getting used to it. We’ve got plenty of time to disappoint you.”

Cullen stared at the mage for a moment then he huffed a laugh. “You have a very odd way of looking at things.”

“I’m a natural cynic,” Dorian replied. He reached out and made a move. “Your move.”

They settled back into the game and soon found themselves a little too distracted for much in the way of conversation as they tried to get to grips with each other’s style of play. Finally though, Dorian was forced to concede and he tipped over his king.

“ _Kaffas_. I was sure I had that game.”

“You might have until you moved your Divine that way. You left your Queen open.”

Dorian gave him a slightly sour look. “How many moves ahead were you thinking?”

“About eight,” Cullen said with a blush. “But we played this a lot in the Circle.”

“I demand a rematch,” Dorian grinned. “I need to even the score and get my dignity back.”

Cullen couldn’t help but smile at that. Here was yet another Tevinter mage proving him wrong about his preconceptions and fears. It was unsettling but good at the same time. “I’d like that. The rematch, that is. I don’t think evening the score and regaining your dignity will be possible.”

“Oh ho!” Dorian said with a grin as he waggled his finger at Cullen. “The Templar is confident. I like it.”

“I do know my strategy,” Cullen replied. He felt lighter and happier than he had in months and he found it somewhat incongruous that it was coming in the company of a Tevinter mage of all people. But then, Dorian wasn’t like any mage he’d ever met before. He wasn’t defensive or hostile or nervous, he was just… normal. It occurred to Cullen that his expectations of mages was… not good but he wasn’t sure he cared that much. Not after what Uldred and his cronies had done. But somehow Dorian didn’t really trigger any of his usual wariness of mages. It was… odd.

“I should get you back to the Embassy now that we’re done,” Dorian said and Cullen could have sworn there was a hint of wistfulness about his tone.

Cullen glanced at the door. “I don’t suppose there’s a way out that doesn’t involve going through the party?”

“Not that I know of,” Dorian said apologetically. “I don’t know the Argent Spire very well. It won’t be that bad though. We can keep to the edges. We should avoid most of it.”

Cullen nodded and squared his shoulders as they stood and made their way to the door. When Dorian opened it, the sound of the entertainment hit them both like a hammer and Dorian grimaced.

“Come on,” he said, giving Cullen a nudge. “Let’s get out of here. From the sound of things, the mayhem is likely to start at any moment.”

Cullen gave him a strange look but followed him readily enough and they soon made their way to the front door. Just as they were leaving, the first scream rang out and Dorian hustled Cullen out the door a little faster.

“Let’s… not get involved in that, shall we?” he said dryly.

Cullen looked back over his shoulder with a frown. “Shouldn't we…?”

“No,” Dorian said. “Leave it to the Templars and mages on duty. Trust me, you do not want to be involved.”

Cullen nodded slowly and let himself be guided out of the Argent Spire and into the street beyond. They walked along the streets and Cullen looked around with interest.

“Is that… mage light in the lamps?”

Dorian nodded. “Do you not use magic much in Fereldan?”

“The Maker says magic is meant to serve man,” Cullen said dryly.

Dorian waved a hand at the lamps. “Is the light not serving man?”

Cullen didn’t have an answer to that and he frowned in thought.

“I’m not saying we’re anywhere near perfect,” Dorian said into the silence. “But how are mages to serve mankind if they can’t use their magic to… you know… serve mankind?”

“I… hadn’t thought about it that way,” Cullen said, sounding troubled, then he scowled. “And what about when mages misuse their magic? When they use blood magic and summon demons and get possessed and become abominations?”

Dorian shrugged. “Then they are dealt with. Fools don’t deserve any sympathy.”

Cullen looked rather taken aback by that almost offhand answer and Dorian raised an eyebrow.

“You really don’t have a very high opinion of mages, do you?”

“I have cause,” Cullen snarled then he sighed and his shoulders slumped. “I… sorry. I shouldn’t… it’s not your fault.”

Dorian frowned as he looked at Cullen. It hadn’t just been anger in Cullen’s snarled reply, there had been fear and horror as well.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

“I…” Cullen shook his head. “Not here. Not… yet.”

“Fair enough,” Dorian said, patting the man on the arm. “I don’t mean to push.”

Cullen gave him a half-hearted smile and Dorian changed subjects, pointing at various buildings they passed and telling him about the history attached to the place and its owners in some cases and the scurrilous rumours in others. By the time they reached the Embassy, Cullen was smiling again and he’d even managed to get the man to chuckle a few times.

“So…” Dorian said. He found himself rather loathe to part from the other man. For all that Cullen had the subtlety of a brick, he was an interesting man. And if he found him attractive, that was nobody’s business but his own.

“I’m… not going to be much use to anyone the next few days,” Cullen said, one hand rising unconsciously to rub the back of his neck. “But if you want that rematch…”

“I’ll send a message,” Dorian said. “I’m starting some new lessons tomorrow so I’m not sure how that’s going to affect my schedule. How about I send a message in a couple of days and we can sort something out?”

“That’d be good,” Cullen said. He hesitated for a moment longer then nodded awkwardly to Dorian and headed inside the Embassy.

Dorian watched him go then gave himself a shake and turned towards the Circle. He needed to sleep if he was going to be of any use the next morning.

******

“You disappeared early last night.”

Dorian looked up with surprise from the cup of tea he was pouring himself. Gereon was looking at him with an arched eyebrow but beyond that he couldn’t tell what was going through his mentor’s mind.

“Uh, yes,” he said. “I’m afraid I missed all the fun and games.”

“You left with that Southern Templar or so I’m told.”

Gereon’s expression was bland but Dorian’s hackles still went up. He resisted the urge to sigh even as he felt a thread of anger start to wind through him. How long was he going to be judged for what he had done?

“Yes,” he said, matching Gereon’s expression and tone. “We were playing chess and he wanted to go back to the Embassy. He wasn’t sure of the way so I offered to guide him.” He rolled his eyes. “The screaming started just as we were leaving so I didn’t feel any great urge to go back. So I came back here instead.”

Gereon nodded to himself as though what Dorian had said matched what he already knew. Dorian gritted his teeth and shoved down the urge to scream. From the look Gereon gave him, he knew exactly how Dorian felt.

“Chess, hmm?” Gereon said. “Is he any good?”

“He beat me,” Dorian replied a little sulkily. 

The older mage chuckled. “Put you in your place, did he?”

It was said with the same fond affection that he might have used with Felix and it made that angry thread uncoil inside Dorian. He reminded himself that the intrusive questions likely weren’t because Gereon was judging him but because it allowed him to reassure Halward Pavus that Dorian was behaving. Still unpleasant but less so than thinking that his mentor didn’t trust him.

“Yes. I’ve demanded a rematch.”

Gereon arched an eyebrow then smiled. “A little humility might be good for you and it wouldn’t do you any harm to learn more about our southern neighbours.”

Dorian gave a tiny sigh of relief at Gereon’s tacit approval. He was afraid the man would only see the worst of him forever and he’d had no doubts that if Gereon hadn’t wanted him to have any further contact with Cullen, he would have found a way to make it stick.

The conversation turned back to Dorian’s studies for a little while longer then he took his leave. The hours before his first lesson with Aquila seemed to fly and in next to no time, he was standing in front of the classroom Gereon had assigned to them. He drew in a breath then opened the door. The elderly mage was standing at the front of the classroom and he gestured for Dorian to enter.

“You’re punctual. Good. Come here, lad.”

Dorian walked over to join him then sat down at the old man’s invitation.

“How much do you know about the Somniari?” Aquila asked.

“Not much,” Dorian admitted. “I know that my family descends from a line of Dreamers but no one’s shown any signs of the ability in generations.”

“It is rare,” Aquila said. “And getting rarer. It’s unusual to see it emerge in someone so late though. Have you had dreams like this before?”

Dorian shook his head. “Not that I can recall but these dreams have only really bothered me because they seemed important. They _felt_ important. If I’ve had dreams like that in the past, they haven’t had the same urgency to them.”

Aquila nodded. “The key to understanding dreams like this is control. Some call it lucid dreaming. Normally when we sleep, the Fade draws us in and provides us with the platform to experience our dreams or suffer through our nightmares. As mages, we are able to control these dreams more than the average person but Somniari can step through the Fade and control our dreams. Or in this case, observe a Dream that is being imposed upon us.”

“Then this isn’t coming from me?” Dorian frowned, not really liking that idea.

“No,” Aquila said. “It is difficult to describe in words but there is a distinct difference between a normal dream and a Dream that is being imposed upon us for some reason. That sort of Dream is rare but always significant. In order to understand the Dream you are receiving, you need to learn control.”

“Who would be sending me a Dream like this?” Dorian asked.

Aquila looked satisfied, as though he’d been waiting for Dorian to ask that question. “That is the question, is it not? The words you have heard are… unusual. Usually when Dreams are imposed upon a Somniari, it is a powerful mage or a fellow Dreamer or a particularly insistent spirit or demon but yours? Are most curious. In the end, the only way you will get any answers, Dorian, is to learn the control required of a Somniari.”

Dorian stared at the Dreamer then he swallowed and nodded. “Okay. What do I have to do?”

Aquila gave him a pleased smile and began to explain.

******

Three days had passed before Dorian had a chance to send a message to Cullen enquiring whether he would be available for chess. He wasn’t sure if he was expecting a reply or not. Cullen had been relatively polite but he couldn’t help but remember the anger and fear that had radiated off the man at times, usually in response to something about mages and magic. What had happened to the Templar to gain that sort of reaction? Based on what he knew of the South, it was the mages who feared the Templars, not the other way around. Either way, it was entirely possible that Cullen would fob him off.

Instead he received a reply saying that Cullen would be available later in the afternoon if Dorian didn’t mind that he was a bit under the weather. When Dorian duly arrived at the agreed upon time, he decided that ‘under the weather’ was an understatement.

“You look terrible,” he said bluntly as he sat down opposite Cullen.

They were in a small courtyard towards the back of the Embassy building where it was quiet and there was enough shade to reduce the ever present heat to something entirely tolerable. Had this been an ordinary house, there would have been slaves with fans to provide some breeze but he wasn’t surprised to find nothing of the sort here.

“Then I look how I feel,” Cullen said dryly.

Dorian immediately looked worried. “Then… should I go? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“No,” Cullen said hurriedly, holding out one hand. “Please stay. To be honest, the distraction is… welcome.”

“If you’re sure…”

Cullen nodded and Dorian settled down in his seat. The chess board was already set up with the white pieces on his side. He arched an eyebrow at Cullen.

“I feel like I’m being pandered to.”

The Templar managed a small smirk through his weariness. “It seems only fair. I was white last time.”

“Hmph,” Dorian said with good-natured suspicion. He then reached out and made his first move. “Are you sure you want to give that much of an advantage away under the circumstances?”

“As I said… the distraction is welcome.”

Dorian arched an eyebrow. “Well then, I’ll endeavour to provide you with sufficient distraction.”

And so he did. Though he wanted to ask how Cullen was faring, that would just draw attention to the very thing the man wanted to be distracted from. Instead he launched into a number of humorous and slightly scandalous stories from his days as an apprentice and was pleased to not only distract Cullen from his woes but to actually get a smile and a laugh on occasion. What he didn’t do was distract the man enough to win the game and he tipped his king over in amused frustration when he realised his predicament.

“Maker take you,” he said with a laugh. “Look at you. Half dead with exhaustion and illness and you still beat me.”

Cullen’s colour was much better than when he’d arrived and his eyes were alight with delight and enjoyment rather than the dull pain he’d seen in them earlier so he was willing to take the defeat.

“I told you it would take more than a rematch to defeat me,” he said with a faint smirk.

Dorian raised a finger. “Now the honour of Tevinter is at stake, you blackguard.”

Cullen laughed and eased forward, starting the process of putting the pieces back into place. “Well, if the honour of Tevinter is at stake then you can have white again.”

They were about halfway through the second game when a couple of servants came out carrying trays and a small table. In fairly quick order the table was set up, the contents of the trays placed on the table and a small vial placed near Cullen then the servants disappeared as efficiently as they had appeared.

Cullen quickly swallowed the contents of the vial with grimace while Dorian perused the offered food. He noted that it was all small titbits, nothing heavy and when he tried one or two, all very flavourful. He arched an eyebrow and looked over at Cullen.

“Having trouble eating?”

The Templar sighed as he eyed the food then ventured to eat something. “A little. More trouble keeping things down.”

“So they’re tempting you with little tasty bits and pieces,” Dorian said with a nod. “Smart.”

“The Embassy healer suggested it. She’s a bit worried about the withdrawal process. I think she questioned the Knight-Commander for a couple of hours about it.” He shrugged. “I’ve been seeing her every morning. She seems pleased with my progress overall.”

“I’m glad it’s going well.” He grimaced. “As well as can be expected.”

“How are you new classes going?” Cullen asked. “You said you had something knew you were starting, I think.”

Dorian nodded. “It’s… going well, I think. It’s not what I’m used to but I think I’m getting the hang of it. My teacher is, thankfully, very patient.”

Cullen nodded and the conversation drifted into other subjects as they continued to play. Dorian was careful to nudge various dishes at the other man from time to time and was pleased to see him eat something close to a small meal. When he finally had to concede defeat _again_ , he was rather reluctant to depart but after a short discussion, they decided to meet every day around this time and Dorian left in an excellent frame of mind.

Over the next several weeks, the chess matches continued even after Cullen recovered from the worst of the withdrawal symptoms. Not that they entirely went away. The man suffered from terrible cravings and awful migraines but he consistently claimed that Dorian’s presence helped. For his part, Dorian tried not to read too much into that. The constant contact had only increased his interest in the man and it wasn’t long before he had to admit to himself that he _liked_ Cullen. Perhaps even more than liked.

Certainly he desired the man and that was where the trouble lay. In the past his dalliances with men had been casual, whether it was a fellow noble mage or a prostitute in a brothel. But he had the suspicion that casual wasn’t something Cullen did. Or rather it was something the man didn’t do well. Dorian wasn’t sure he wanted anything more than casual.

Or rather it was a case that he _did_ but he didn’t think he could have it. Not here and not with his father. He wasn’t sure whether the tentative agreement his father had made with Livia Herathinos’ family was still intact but even if it wasn’t, he knew his father was going to insist that he marry some woman eventually. While it certainly wasn’t unheard of for a married man to have someone on the side, he didn’t think that was a role Cullen would accept either.

It was driving him mad and when he wasn’t trying to control the Dreams that were being sent to him, he was dreaming about doing all sorts of pleasurable and filthy things with Cullen. He honestly wasn’t sure which sort of dream he dreaded the most when he fell into bed of an evening. And even harder was hiding all of that from Cullen. He knew the Templar liked him as a friend, even if he still hadn’t lost his wariness and fear of mages in general, but there was a difference between liking someone as a friend and liking someone a bit more than that. He’d been on the receiving of some… interesting looks from Cullen as the weeks passed but he refused to read much into them. He was half-convinced he was making them up and even if they were true, Cullen had a great deal of baggage to deal with.

All in all, it wasn’t something he could easily resolve and he quite honestly wanted to sort out these Dreams before he did anything else. He had a feeling that they were going to come to a head sooner rather than later.

******

“ _You are privy to a great Becoming but you recognise nothing_.”

Dorian stared around him, fear thudding in his chest. He was in the Fade. He was asleep and in the Fade, of that he was sure. He recognised nothing though. Surrounding him was a swirling darkness and he could see nothing in it or beyond it. Only the voice echoed out of it and that voice terrified him.

“ _Before me you rightly tremble. But fear is not what you owe me_.”

Dorian whirled around, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. He tried to breathe, to follow the teachings that Aquila had given him, but it was hard. That was when he realised that the fear wasn’t just coming from within himself, it was being imposed from outside, from whatever owned that voice.

“ _You owe me all_!”

The black mist swirled crazily and then a great gust of wind parted it. Just for a moment Dorian saw the shape that loomed above him in the Fade, just for a moment he saw the owner of the voice…

…and he screamed.

Dorian shot bolt upright in bed, the scream catching in his throat as he woke fully. He shoved the bedclothes back and stumbled towards the bathing room where he emptied his stomach into the lavatory. He staggered backwards, catching himself on the sink, then slowly, shakily turned around and reached out for the tap handle. He stopped and stared at his hand. It was trembling so wildly, he probably would have dropped anything he tried to hold. He shuddered and grabbed hold of the tap handle, twisting it and then splashing water onto his face. He then flushed the lavatory and after a glance at the bucket needed to refill the cistern, he shrugged and left it.

He stumbled back into the bedroom and collapsed down to sit on the edge of the bed. He’d been having lessons with Aquila for nearly two months now and the dreams had become clearer and clearer each night. Tonight was the first time he had felt like he was completely in control and now he wished he wasn’t.

Because he’d seen a dragon. 

The voice he’d heard since this began belonged to a dragon… to an Old God. It could only be an Old God. But what did it mean? What did the dragon mean by a Becoming?

He shuddered and ran a hand down his face. He wished he could discuss this with Gereon but his mentor was away for at least the next two weeks, possibly more, spending time at home with his wife and son. He would have to wait until he could meet with Aquila but the Dreamer had known little about the dreams before. He’d told Dorian that each Dreamer saw different things and he’d never encountered anything like what Dorian had, even when he’d searched it out.

“Maker’s balls,” he muttered, unable to shrug the fear of what he’d heard and seen.

He got to his feet and dressed and quickly left his rooms. As he walked down the corridor in the dim light of what could only be very early morning, he found himself heading out of the Circle and into the streets of Minrathous. He walked without paying attention to his direction and when he looked up and found himself standing outside the Fereldan Embassy, he almost laughed.

He’d spent time almost every day with Cullen since the party at the Argent Spire, an enjoyable if frustrating time that he wouldn’t give up for anything. It probably wasn’t much of a surprise that his subconscious had brought him here. He found a calmness in spending time with Cullen that he had rarely found elsewhere.

“May I help you, my Lord?”

Dorian gave a start and looked up to see one of the Fereldan guards standing behind the gate eyeing him dubiously.

“I… ah… I’m not sure actually.”

The guard looked amused then recognition dawned. “You’re the Knight-Captain’s friend, aren’t you? If you wanted to see him, I know he’s awake.”

“At this hour?” Dorian said with a frown then he blinked. “Actually what time is it?”

“About an hour before dawn,” the guard said with a chuckle. “The Knight-Captain is an early riser. He’s training in the courtyard.”

“Um, then, yes please.”

Dorian didn’t bother thinking about the propriety or the worrying fact that the Fereldan guards knew who he was. Most of their chess games had taken place here in the small courtyard, initially because of Cullen’s withdrawal illness and later because they both liked the venue. It wasn’t surprising that even the guards most often on night duty would know who he was. 

He walked inside and followed the guard’s directions to a courtyard that he hadn’t been to before. This one was larger and set up for training for warriors. Cullen was indeed in there and he was hard at work. He was stripped down to a pair of breeches and a plain linen shirt and he was doing his best to try and demolish a training dummy that had been set up in one corner. Torches had been lit around the courtyard and they were doing a good job of lighting the area.

“What has that dummy ever done to you? For shame.” He’d been aiming for something idle and amused but instead his voice came out sounding more than a little strained.

Cullen turned around in surprise then he smiled. “Good morning, Dorian.” He frowned when he got a good look at the other man. “What’s wrong?”

“I… feel like I shouldn’t bother you with it,” Dorian said, reluctant to burden the Templar with more than he already had to bear.

“I’m a lot better,” Cullen said. “The headaches are mostly gone and the horrible cravings aren't as bad.” He set his sword aside next to the shield Dorian hadn’t noticed until now. He then gestured towards a stone bench not too far away. “Why don’t we sit down? You’ve never come here this early so I’m guessing that something is wrong.”

Dorian nodded and they walked over and sat down on the bench. He could feel the warmth coming from the other man as well as the scent of sweat. Oddly enough it didn’t smell as bad as he expected and he smothered the urge to lean into Cullen. 

“I… did I tell you about the dreams I’ve been having lately?”

Cullen shook his head. His expression was suddenly troubled but all he said was, “No. What’s happening?”

Dorian told him about the strange dreams, detouring for a while into an explanation of the Somniari and his family’s lineage then ending with a brief overview of his lessons with Aquila.

“So… a Somniari can control their dreams?”

Dorian nodded. “Essentially, yes. They can walk the Fade entirely consciously and communicate with the spirits inside in a far more coherent manner than mages normally can. The downside is… well, dreams like this.”

“Are these dreams why you’re up at what I’m fairly sure you once called a Maker damned hour?” Cullen asked with a faint hint of a smile.

Dorian actually managed to laugh at that. It was a weak laugh but a laugh nonetheless and he was grateful for it because it caused some of the fear and tension from the Dream to fade.

“Yes.” He sobered and stared down at his hands. “I Dreamed properly last night. For the first time, I managed to control my dream. At first I was just wandering the Fade but then I was drawn in by… something. The presence that has been in those Dreams of mine.” He shuddered and then stared as Cullen took one of his hands in his. He swallowed against the emotions that caused. “It was black, all swirling black mist and I couldn’t see a damn thing. Then I heard the voice again, only this time I heard it clearly. All of it.”

“What did it say?” Cullen asked, his voice quiet in the cool of the predawn air.

Dorian licked his lips. “You are privy to a great Becoming but you recognise _nothing_. Before me you rightly tremble. But fear is not what you owe me. You owe me _all_!”

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen said, his eyes wide. “What does it mean?”

“I don’t know.” Dorian could hear the tremor in his voice but he couldn’t stop it. “But I saw who said it. _What_ said it.” He gulped. “It was a dragon. An Old God.”

Cullen was silent but his hand gripped Dorian’s tightly. He was grateful for it, not just for the comfort it offered but for the way it seemed to ground him. While Cullen held his hand, he felt like he could face this. It was a dangerous thought but the Dream was still so close in his mind that he didn’t care.

“Knight-Commander Galeria told me that the Circle building used to be a temple to an Old God,” Cullen said hesitantly. “Razikale was the name, I think.”

Dorian turned to him with wide eyes. “I’d forgotten about that. Do you think it’s Razikale?”

“It makes sense.” Cullen frowned. “I’m no Blight scholar but haven’t the Old Gods raised in each Blight been identified?”

“Maker, I’d have no idea,” Dorian said. “Most of the Blights happened elsewhere but I know there are scholars in the Circle who have studied the Blights. I can ask one of them.”

“Though that still doesn’t answer the question as to why an Old God is invading your dreams,” Cullen said. He looked thoroughly disturbed and it made Dorian curious.

“You looked as unnerved as I feel,” he said as lightly as he dared.

Cullen grimaced. “I… my dreams are rarely peaceful. I know how it feels.”

“You did live through the Blight in Fereldan,” Dorian said carefully. “That seems only natural.”

As he watched, Cullen’s mouth twisted into a bitter shape and his eyes filled with an emotion Dorian couldn’t define other than it wasn’t a good one.

“Yeah, I did,” the Templar said, his voice rough.

Dorian decided to leave that alone for now. There were undercurrents in that tone that he didn’t much like and as selfish as it might be, he wasn’t sure he could handle much more right now.

“I should go and track down those scholars,” he said in the slightly awkward silence that had developed.

“Will they be awake?” Cullen raised an eyebrow.

Dorian huffed. “No. Ugh. This is why I don’t get up early.”

He was pleased to get a soft laugh from Cullen for that then the Templar gave his hand a squeeze. 

“If you’re willing to wait while I wash up and get dressed properly, I can at least offer you some breakfast.”

Dorian couldn’t help himself. He let his gaze run up and down Cullen’s body. “I don’t know. I don’t mind what you’re wearing right now.”

To his surprise, Cullen blushed and looked away almost shyly. He’d been about to apologise at the first sign of annoyance or disdain but this… was unexpected. From what he could see Cullen looked both slightly spooked and very bashful but at the same time, he could have sworn that the other man looked… pleased. He _had_ to be imagining that last bit.

I… um…” Cullen cleared his throat and turned back to Dorian. He seemed composed but his cheeks were still bright red as he got to his feet. “I’m sweaty and I stink. Come on.”

Dorian followed after him and tried not to examine why he suddenly felt a little panicky when Cullen had let go of his hand. It was a childish feeling and he was far from being a child.

They walked inside the Embassy and Dorian looked around with interest. He was a little disappointed. He didn’t know why he’d expected the building to be anything other than Tevinter in construction but somehow he had. It almost made him want to laugh at himself. However the paintings on the wall were clearly Fereldan and he couldn’t help but notice the preponderance of large dogs in them.

“You Fereldans really do like your dogs, don’t you?”

Cullen looked at him then at the paintings and he smiled. “I guess we do. But then, if you had Mabari, you’d be proud of them too.”

“They say they’re Tevinter in origin but that they liked your lot much better and defected when we invaded Fereldan,” Dorian said with a matching smile. “I’d feel offended but I’m not much of a dog person.”

“Mabari are excellent judges of character.”

Dorian glanced over at Cullen, saw his innocent expression and laughed. “Such sass. I didn’t know you had it in you, Knight-Captain.”

Cullen smiled wryly. “It’s been a while.”

They stopped at a door and Cullen opened it to reveal the sitting room of a decent size apartment. He wandered over to the bookshelves as Cullen headed into the bedroom. He was in the middle of reading one of the Fereldan books he’d never heard of before when Cullen finally emerged, dressed in his armour. Dorian expected it to look a bit ludicrous to be wandering around in armour but it suited Cullen in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“I’ve never seen this one before,” he said, holding up the book.

“You can borrow it if you like,” Cullen replied.

Dorian looked down at the book. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve read that one several times, so yes.”

Dorian tucked the book under his arm and they left the apartment and headed for the dining room. As they arrived, they met the Ambassador coming from the opposite direction.

“Good morning, Cullen.” The Ambassador gave Dorian a curious look and raised an eyebrow at Cullen. “And who is this?”

Cullen looked a little hesitant. “Uh, Ambassador, this is Enchanter Dorian Pavus…”

“Ah, your chess partner.” The Ambassador smiled at Dorian. “Have you managed to beat him yet?”

“Despite my best efforts, no,” Dorian said dryly. “He’s annoyingly good.”

“He’s got us all,” the Ambassador said. “We’re conspiring behind his back to try and take him down.”

“I should join you,” Dorian said with a grin as Cullen blushed.

The Ambassador glanced between the two men. “You’re always welcome,” was all that he would say.

They entered the dining room and Dorian and Cullen collected their breakfasts and sat down at a table.

“I would have thought he’d be more concerned about me being here,” Dorian said idly.

Cullen shrugged. “You’re with me.”

“And that’s it?”

“Yes.”

Dorian shook his head. “Fereldans.”

Cullen chuckled and the conversation turned to anything _but_ what had brought Dorian to the Embassy that morning. Once they were done, they placed their dishes at the washing station and headed out.

Dorian paused at the gate. He felt loathe to leave Cullen’s company and couldn’t explain why. “I… this will sound mad but I don’t suppose you’d care to accompany me?”

Cullen hesitated as once again that strange expression bloomed in his eyes. It was hard to decipher but in the morning light, Dorian was sure he could see hesitancy and fear there. He just didn’t know why.

“I… if you’d like,” Cullen said.

“Please.” Dorian sighed. “I just… I’m still feeling a bit…”

Cullen gave a lopsided smile. “It’s okay. I don’t have anything on today but I should speak to Knight-Commander Galeria about my progress.”

They headed back to the Circle and once they were inside the building, Dorian noticed that Cullen’s mood dipped into something wary and twitchy. At one point they passed an apprentice class practising their fire spells and Cullen actually jumped and almost spooked entirely. His hand closed convulsively around the pommel of his sword before he forced it down to his side. Dorian wanted to ask, wanted to find out why the Templar was so jumpy but one look at Cullen’s face told him that the question wouldn’t be welcome right now.

They parted at the door to the Knight-Commander’s office, agreeing to meet back at the same place when they were both done. It took Dorian a couple of hours to track down everyone he wanted to speak to and when he returned, it was with half a dozen books piled in his arms. Cullen was waiting outside Galeria’s office, looking adorably awkward, and Dorian nearly dropped the top couple of books in his pile when he realised he’d actually thought the word adorable.

“What are these?” Cullen asked as he caught the two books in question.

“Scholars,” Dorian said with disgust. “They never give you answers, just the means to look them up for yourself.”

Cullen smiled faintly, his eyes flickering back and forth in a nervous pattern. He seemed to be expecting something horrible to happen and it wasn’t making Dorian’s anxiety any better.

“Are there answers?”

Dorian nodded. “They say it’s in these books. Let’s go up to the library.”

Cullen followed Dorian up to the library and they commandeered a table. They were shortly buried in the books and when he took the opportunity to glance up, Dorian saw that Cullen had relaxed a little. Still he couldn’t help but notice that every odd noise made Cullen look up warily.

Finally, Dorian hit on the information they needed. “Here we are,” he said. “There are seven Old Gods and five have been corrupted into the Archdemons of the Blight. Dumat was the Archdemon of the First Blight then it was Zazikel, Toth, Andoral and Urthemial.” 

He suddenly paled and Cullen leaned forward.

“Dorian? What is it?”

“The scholars theorise that the next Old God to be corrupted will be Razikale.”

Cullen looked around the library. “And this was the Temple of Razikale.”

“So why am _I_ dreaming of him… or rather her?”

Cullen shook his head. “Proximity?”

“Maybe.” Dorian frowned and rubbed his forehead. “It still doesn’t answer what she meant by what she said to me.”

“Maybe we’ll find something more specific in here now that we’ve confirmed it’s Razikale,” Cullen suggested.

They went back to their books and broke only to quickly eat lunch. Dorian noticed Cullen’s nervousness returned in the dining hall but when a couple of the Templars joined them, he relaxed again. Dorian had never had much to do with the Templars before but he found that they were good conversationalists and seemingly enjoyed teasing Cullen at every opportunity. For his part, Cullen took the teasing in good grace and Dorian found himself rather charmed by all of it. 

After lunch, they returned to their books until it was time for Dorian’s lesson with Aquila. Cullen came down with him as they had both come up with some questions for the Dreamer but when they approached the classroom, they found the old man waiting for them. Dorian opened his mouth to greet the elderly mage but Aquila was looking straight at Cullen.

“Yes. You!” He pointed at the classroom. “In. Both of you.”

Dorian and Cullen exchanged startled looks and entered the classroom. Aquila followed them in and closed the door.

“You dreamed clearly last night,” he said without any further preamble.

Dorian gave a start then nodded. “Yes. I… I saw Razikale. She spoke to me.”

The Dreamer nodded. “I knew it was something significant. I too dreamed and mine told me many things. The first is I must depart.”

“What?” Dorian yelped. “But…”

“I must,” Aquila said. He placed his hand on Dorian’s arm. “I do not wish to leave this to you but I am old, Dorian. I was warned that if I stayed, your Dream would consume me and I would not be able to fight it. If I depart, I can send aid to you from a distance. It is not ideal but it must occur.”

Dorian looked unhappy but he nodded. “And the second thing?”

Aqulia’s eyes were bright and intent as he turned to point at Cullen. “ _He_ must remain at your side at all times. Day and night. Do this and you may yet overcome that which you oppose. Do not and you will surely fall.”

“What? Why me?” Cullen almost yelped, his eyes wide.

Aquila smiled thinly. “The spirits did not choose to tell me that but they showed you to me quite clearly and their meaning was certain.” He looked back at Dorian. “He must stay with you.”

Dorian blanched and shook his head. “He can’t. I can’t be seen to have someone in my rooms.”

“He _must_ ,” Aquila demanded shrilly. “He must not leave your side, Dorian. If he does, if you try and stand alone against Razikale, you _will_ fall.”

Dorian still looked stricken and Cullen placed a hand on his shoulder. Dorian started at the contact then shied away from him with a wild-eyed look that had Cullen frowning.

“Surely the First Enchanter would make allowances under the circumstances…”

“No!” Aquila snapped. “No one must know of this. That is why I drew Magister Alexius and his son from this place. Right now, Razikale can only reach those who know of her existence. If others know of her, that she is awakening, she will be able to reach their minds and use them against you.”

“What does she want with me?” Dorian demanded.

Aquila’s eyes were wide with fear. “I do not know. She wakes and she wants you. Her purpose is beyond my Dreaming.” He turned to Cullen and grabbed his wrist. “You have rid yourself of your crutch but you _must_ believe in your own power. You _must_.”

Aquila let go of Cullen’s wrist and hurried to the door. He paused with one hand on the doorknob. He pointed at each of them in turn.

“You must each let the other in. You must _know_ each other. Only then can you trust, only then can you be one. You will need that to succeed.”

The old Dreamer yanked the door open and scurried out, leaving the two young men behind in baffled silence.

“What should we do?” Cullen asked into that silence.

“I don’t know.” Dorian wrapped his arms around himself. “I have no reason to doubt Aquila’s word but…”

“But what?”

Dorian shook his head. “If you were to be caught in my rooms… I’m already on thin ice with my father and Alexius…”

Cullen looked confused. “What do you mean?”

Dorian looked around the classroom. “Not here.”

He led the way out of the classroom and up the stairs to the floors with the private quarters. He hustled Cullen along to his room, glancing up and down the corridor nervously until they got there. Once inside, he closed and locked the door.

“Dorian,” Cullen said patiently. “What’s going on?”

Dorian paced back and forth then he levelled a finger at Cullen. “I’ll do you a deal. I’ll tell you about this if you tell me why you act like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs whenever you’re here in the Circle.”

Cullen winced then rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I… well, he did say we should know each other.”

“Yes,” Dorian said, sounding very disgruntled. “That was on my mind.”

Cullen hesitated then nodded. “Alright. You’ve got a deal.”

Dorian waved towards a chair. “Sit down then.” He paced back and forth a little more than came to a halt and slumped, looking everywhere but at the Templar. “I… prefer the company of men.”

“Um… okay?” Cullen said, sounding baffled.

Dorian stared at him then ventured somewhat tentatively, “As in… sex. I prefer to have sex with men.”

Cullen still looked baffled though now there was a blush slowly growing on his cheeks. “Y… yes, that’s what I assumed you meant. That’s… a problem here?”

“You mean it’s not in Fereldan?” Dorian asked, his voice tight and a little high from surprise.

Cullen shook his head. “No. Why would it? I mean… it can sometimes cause issues in noble families but there’s usually a way around it.” His blush deepened and he gulped audibly. “I… er… I like both. Men and women, that is. Not that I’ve had much experience but…” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Maker’s breath. I mean, I know what I like and it’s both.”

That got a faint smirk out of Dorian. “You’re rather adorable when you blush.”

Cullen glared at him then gave a resigned sigh. “You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

“I’ll bet,” Dorian said with a chuckle then he sobered. “Unfortunately me liking men _is_ a problem here.” He winced. “I… my father disapproves. Of a great many things I am and do, truth be told. I spent a lot of time rebelling against him and some of that involved… wallowing in brothels with the male prostitutes and… well, openly flaunting my preferences. Maker knows what I would have ended up doing if Alexius hadn’t found me and piqued my interest in his research. Needless to say, I’m on very thin ice with my father and I think Alexius is reporting back to him about my behaviour. If I was found with a man in my rooms…”

“Then they won’t find me,” Cullen said firmly. “I presume they can’t just barge in and search the place?”

“Not without cause and that wouldn’t include my sexual preferences,” Dorian said, calming a little at Cullen’s pragmatism.

“Then we’ll be fine.” Cullen paused and looked a little shy. “And Dorian… your preferences really aren’t a problem.”

“Tevinter begs to differ, you impossible man,” Dorian said. 

“Then Tevinter is wrong.”

Dorian looked at him helplessly. “You can’t just say things like that. It makes me want to do stupid things like kiss you.”

Cullen looked a little like a startled deer then he blushed. “I…”

Dorian hastily waved a hand. “I apologise. I barely know you. You barely know me. And here I am being far too forward.”

“It… it wouldn’t be unwelcome but…” Cullen swallowed. “I, uh… you were right in saying I get… nervous in the Circle. Or rather… around mages.”

“We’d heard they indoctrinate you to hate mages,” Dorian offered with an arched eyebrow.

Cullen frowned. “No, not hate. Maybe… be wary of? Or be aware of what can happen if things go badly? I don’t know.” He scrubbed his face with one hand. “Have you heard here about what happened at Kinloch Hold?”

“Yes but only rumours.” Dorian thought for a moment about what had been discussed in the dining hall a few times. “We heard it fell. Blood magic and abominations and all that rot that happens when mages think they can control demons and whatnot.”

“I would have thought people here would have been pleased,” Cullen said with an angry bitterness that startled Dorian. The man was usually so polite and even hesitant that this was a stark contrast.

“Not particularly,” Dorian said carefully. “I’m sure some were but in general blood magic is frowned upon, even viewed with disdain. It’s… the resort of the weak mind as my father always says. I’m not saying it doesn’t happen but it’s certainly a good way to be made Tranquil.” He came over and sat down beside Cullen. “What happened?”

Cullen bowed his head. “Uldred lead a rebellion. They killed so many, both Templars and those mages who refused to join them. They used blood magic and summoned demons. Many became abominations.” He let out a shaky breath. “Some of the Templars, including me, were trapped and held captive. Maker, what he did to them. He… he tortured them and…”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I was the only one left alive in the end. Uldred and his followers… they tormented me, tortured me. Denied me food, water, lyrium. They… they tried to break my mind. I resisted. Maker only knows how but I did. I don’t know how much longer I would have survived when the Hero of Fereldan arrived.”

Dorian gently rested one hand on Cullen’s shoulder and when his touch wasn’t rejected, he squeezed lightly.

“I can see why you wouldn’t much like mages after that.”

“It’s not that I hate mages,” Cullen said. “But it’s… it’s hard to trust them… you. I’ve seen…”

“The worst we can do,” Dorian said bitterly. “And isn’t Tevinter just a hot bed of every horrible thing mages can do.”

“I thought that,” Cullen admitted. “They… sent me here to get rid of me. I… reacted badly towards some apprentices. _Over_ reacted actually. I didn’t hurt them but I could have.” He shook his head and his voice was full of self-loathing when he continued, “I could have killed them. They didn’t know what to do with me but they didn’t feel they could keep me in the Circle. So they sent me here.”

“Maker’s balls,” Dorian said with disgust. “You don’t _abandon_ someone who needs help, you actually… _help_ them.”

Cullen snorted. “What help is there?”

“There must be some that you’ve been getting here or you’d probably have strangled me a long time ago,” Dorian said with an amused snort.

“I…” Cullen frowned. “The mages here haven’t been what I expected.” He made a frustrated noise. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“We’re not belligerent or defiant because we think we’re prisoners,” Dorian said quietly. “We’re not subservient or timid to protect ourselves from overzealous Templars. We’re not railing against the system because the system works for us. We’re… ordinary people.”

Cullen looked shame-faced. “Maybe that’s it.”

Dorian reached over and tucked his fingers under Cullen’s chin so that he could turn the man’s head towards him.

“Hush now. I’m not casting aspersions at you. I think you’ve glossed very lightly over what happened to you at the hands of those mages and I’m not so enamoured with what I am that I would approve of or applaud what they’ve done.” He smiled wryly. “I do think your southern Circles are dire places from what I’ve heard but that’s not your fault.”

“I knew the Hero of Fereldan,” Cullen whispered. “She… Solona Amell… was an apprentice at the Circle before she was taken away by the Grey Wardens. She was my responsibility. I… I was very fond of her.”

Dorian smiled in an effort to lift the mood. “You had a crush on her?”

“I suppose,” Cullen said weakly. “It was inappropriate. She was in my charge and I would never have acted on it but she was b… beautiful and a powerful mage.” His face fell. “They… they used that… crush against me. Uldred and the demons. They came to me wearing her face and… and…”

He ran a hand down his face and Dorian wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

“Hush. I don’t need to know the details, not when it distresses you so much. They tortured you. That’s more than enough.” He eyed the Templar curiously. “In light of all of that, it surprises me that you said you’d welcome a kiss from me. Is it because I’m devastatingly handsome and a powerful mage? You do seem to have a type based on your description of Warden Amell.”

He was relieved when Cullen laughed and actually leaned into him. He hadn’t been sure if the other man would take the light humour very well right now but Cullen was made of sterner stuff. As he’d already known.

“Maybe I do,” Cullen said wryly. “I thought I would hate it here. I thought being surrounded by mages would drive me mad. That I’d be treated like dirt.” He shrugged. “Well, some of the Magisters do but I get the impression that’s less to do with me personally and more to do with the fact that I’m not a mage and worse, I’m a Templar from the south.”

Dorian snorted. “Half of them treat you like that because they’re afraid of what you might be able to do.”

“That’s… a bit counterproductive,” Cullen said dubiously.

Dorian laughed. “I’ve never claimed that Magisters are overflowing with common sense.”

“But most people have been at least polite,” Cullen continued. “Some have even been helpful and you…” He licked his lips. “You’ve been… maddening.”

Dorian’s lips curled up in a sly smirk. “In a good way, I hope.”

“Yes.” Cullen let out a breath of a laugh. “After everything that happened, I should be afraid of you. Or hate you. Or at least be wary of you. But…”

“But?”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while,” Cullen admitted, his face flaming red. “My own nerves and the way you’ve always shied away from my touch have always stopped me.”

“We have such marvellous timing,” Dorian said dryly. “I would very much like to kiss you as well but…” He tapped a knuckle against Cullen’s breastplate, producing a low ringing sound. “Not when you have this on.”

Cullen was still blushing as he gave Dorian an exasperated look. “Don’t do that. It makes me feel like a bell with legs.” 

He got up and stepped away from the bed and began unbuckling his armour and removing the trappings of being a Templar until he was left in his leather breeches and linen shirt. He bundled up the armour and set it aside.

“Much better,” Dorian said with a warm look. He got up and stood in front of Cullen. “That armour does make you look very imposing but I find I prefer you like this.”

Cullen cupped Dorian’s cheek with one hand and leaned in. There was still a faint edge of hesitancy about him but his eyes were warm and he seemed determined to do this. “Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” he asked, his lips almost touching.

“All the time,” Dorian replied with a grin before he closed the gap and kissed the other man.

The kiss was like nothing he’d experienced before. Those kisses had been hard and demanding, grasping and biting, a prelude to quick and unsatisfying sex. This one was sweet and while he wouldn’t call it chaste… there was too much in it to be called that… it was gentle. It was an introduction, a welcome and a promise of more, not a demand. It gave far more than it took.

When they finally separated, Cullen rested his forehead against Dorian’s and smiled. “That was… really nice.”

It was, Dorian reflected, an accurate description and for once, he did not add a derisive slur to the word nice. It had been lovely. It had been wonderful. It had been the kiss of someone who actually cared about him instead of someone who just wanted something from him.

“It was,” he murmured before leaning in for a second kiss.

This kiss was more confident. They both knew the other welcomed it and wanted it so it was more of an exploration this time. Despite that, it didn’t lose the sweet gentleness of that first kiss and Dorian felt an affection growing in him that both terrified him and made him want to hold onto Cullen forever. This was outside his experience, it was everything he’d been told he could never have with a man and yet… here it was. Cullen was offering it to him and Dorian felt that for once he wouldn’t be selfish to take what was being offered, mostly because he was giving back as well. Imperfectly and a bit tentatively but he was.

They separated again and Dorian realised that at some point they’d wrapped their arms around each other and were pressed close. He smiled at the embrace and buried his face in Cullen’s neck.

“I rather like this,” he said, his voice a little muffled.

“You sound surprised,” Cullen replied.

Dorian hesitated. “I’ve… never done this before. It’s always been just about sex.”

Cullen pulled back a little and Dorian raised his head. “I… I would like that,” Cullen said hesitantly. “But I’d… I’d like to wait. I’m…”

Dorian pressed a finger to his lips. “I said I’d never done this before, not that I didn’t want to.”

A low bell rang in the distance and Dorian swore. “That’s the dinner bell. _Kaffas_.” He frowned in thought. “Let me get a meal sent up here. The slaves won’t question you being here.” He saw Cullen’s grimace and chuckled. “Yes, yes, having slaves is terrible but let’s deal with what we have in front of us first before we start any crusades to change one of the fundamental aspects of Tevinter society.”

Cullen conceded with a disgruntled noise and let Dorian go. The mage hurried out the door and returned with a trio of slaves in tow who were carrying trays of food and drink. Cullen made it a point to thank the slaves. Dorian rolled his eyes fondly before doing the same. The slaves looked startled and a little pleased and quickly bowed themselves out of the room.

“You’re going to confuse them,” Dorian said as he uncovered dishes.

“Good,” Cullen said unrepentantly. “They could do with a little more in the way of consideration and less in the way of being taken for granted.”

Dorian gave him a long look then laughed. “You’re going to make our economy collapse.”

“It’s not much of an economy if it relies on slaves.”

“Stubborn man.”

“Thank you.”

Dorian shook his head ruefully. They ate quickly and afterwards, by mutual agreement, they went back to the books. This time however they lounged on Dorian’s bed and exchanged kisses and the occasional caress whenever they felt like it. It was quite late in the evening when Cullen looked up from the book he’d been reading.

“So how am I supposed to help, do you think? I’m a good fighter but I can’t fight a dragon or an Old God or anything like that.”

Dorian sighed. “Honestly, I have no idea. I only started my lessons with Aquila shortly after our first meeting though he did tell me that Dreaming is something that you can really only learn on the job, so to speak.”

“So there’s no point worrying?”

Dorian shrugged. “You can worry all you like but I’m not sure it will help.”

“Wonderful,” Cullen said dryly.

Dorian slammed his book shut and plucked Cullen’s from out of his hands. “Enough. It’s late, I’m tired and if I’m going to have another Dream, I’d rather get it over and done with.”

Cullen didn’t complain and though there were a few moments of awkwardness as they settled into bed as Cullen was unused to sleeping with someone else at all and Dorian was unused to just _sleeping_ with someone, nevertheless it didn’t take long for them to fall asleep.

******

Dorian wasn’t surprised to find himself standing in the green-grey emptiness of the Fade. He’d gotten used to the little twist of mind it took to wrench himself out of his normal dreams and into this lucid aware state.

“Maker preserve us!”

Dorian whirled around in surprise and saw _Cullen_ standing in the Fade not far away. The man was wearing his Templar armour with his shield slung on his back and his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

“Cullen?”

The Templar stared him, fear and the edges of panic plain on his face. “Are we… is this… the Fade?”

Dorian nodded and walked over to him. “Yes, though… how are _you_ here in my dream?”

“Because you need him here.”

Dorian raised the staff that was suddenly in his hand even as Cullen drew his sword. Before them stood the form of an older woman with a kind face who was eyeing them with somewhat clinical interest. He saw Cullen start and from the expression on his face, he recognised this woman.

“W… Wynne?” Cullen said dubiously.

“No but I felt this form might be easier to bear than my true form,” the woman said.

Cullen’s expression hardened. “A demon then.”

Dorian placed a hand on his arm. “A spirit, Amatus.” He looked at the spirit who seemed very amused for some reason. He didn’t notice the odd look Cullen was giving him. “What are you?”

“Wisdom,” the spirit replied. “My friend Aquila asked if I would come. I agreed.”

“Is it dangerous for you to be here?” Dorian asked. He’d had precious few chances to speak to spirits in his Dreams due to Razikale’s interference but he’d learned that if he was polite and direct, they were often useful.

“Not yet but it will be once the Old One realises you are here.” 

“What does the Old One want with me?”

Wisdom cocked its head to the side. “You are a Somniari and attuned to her sacred ground. Through you, she can be free. She wants to be free. Urthemial was woken and corrupted and died and now the Darkspawn seek her. She lies deep beneath us and they are closing in. She fears the corruption and seeks to rise on her own.”

“Through me,” Dorian said in a horrified tone. “How?”

“If she can gain control of you here, she can keep that control in the waking world,” Wisdom said. “She can channel her power through yours. She would take over Tevinter, use its resources to reach where she slumbers and wake herself before the Darkspawn can.”

“What can we do to stop this?” Cullen asked.

“Dorian could be made Tranquil,” Wisdom replied. “Cutting off his connection with the Fade would end any chance she had of returning.”

“ _No_ ,” Cullen said with quick, sharp anger, before Dorian could even react to that horrific suggestion. “That is _not_ a solution.”

Wisdom smiled slightly. “It _is_ a solution. The easiest solution. But perhaps not the best one. It needed to be considered however.”

“I’d rather not, thank you very much,” Dorian said acidly, finding his voice. “Let’s try something else, shall we?”

“Yes. Let’s find a _better_ option,” Cullen ground out through gritted teeth.

“There are many options but only one that will keep you safe,” Wisdom said. “You must render _her_ Tranquil.”

“We have to make one of the Old Gods Tranquil?” Dorian said with disbelief. “Is that even possible?”

“Even a god can be vulnerable,” Wisdom said. “If you know how to find that vulnerability.”

“And exactly _how_ are we supposed to make a god Tranquil?” Dorian demanded.

“The way any being can be made Tranquil,” Wisdom replied. “Kill them in the Fade and you sever their connection forever.”

“But Razikale is a god that appears as a dragon,” Cullen said.

“Dragons can be slain,” Wisdom replied. She gestured delicately with one hand. “And this is the Fade. It is mutable. She appears as a dragon here because she wishes it to be so but Somniari are powerful. The Fade is yours to command.”

There was a sudden roar and Wisdom looked around in alarm. “I cannot stay.”

With that she began to glow and a moment later an amorphous glowing shape shot off into the Fade. The roar came for a second time and Cullen drew his sword and readied his shield.

“Did she mean that I can influence an Old God to become something we can defeat?” Dorian said with a mix of frustration and disbelief.

“I think so,” Cullen replied. He looked around, his eyes narrow. “Come on. It’s too open here. We need to get to a place with cover.”

Cullen led the way and Dorian followed him as they hurried through the Fade. Behind them the roaring continued, getting closer and closer every time. Finally Dorian caught his arm and the Templar came to a halt.

“Wait,” Dorian said. “Let me try something.”

Cullen waited impatiently as Dorian closed his eyes. He could hear the roars of the dragon getting closer and he raised his shield almost automatically. Suddenly, the entire landscape around them shimmered and swayed and realigned itself into a maze of high rocky walls. The roars became wreathed with rage and frustration and Dorian opened his eyes.

“There. That’ll keep her busy for a little while,” he muttered.

Cullen looked around with wide eyes and very firmly shoved down the fear that had risen to almost choke him. 

“How did you do that?”

“I’m a Somniari,” Dorian said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Right.” Cullen took a deep breath and let it out, mustering the discipline he’d been taught as a trainee. “So _can_ you change her into something that can be made Tranquil.”

“If it were me, I’d say no,” Dorian replied. “But spirits aren’t known for lying, especially spirits of Wisdom. Of course, I have no idea _how_ I’m meant to do that since I’m assuming she’ll fight me and try and keep herself in her dragon form.”

“Could she do something about this?” Cullen asked, gesturing to the rocky walls.

“Maybe but not easily. It’s easy enough to mould the Fade once you know what you’re doing but altering something someone else has established is another matter entirely. You have to overcome what they’ve made and replace it with something of your making.”

Cullen glanced over at the rocky walls. His expression wasn’t one of confidence. “So what now?”

“We go that way,” Dorian said. “I need a place where I can set up something workable.”

They headed further into the Fade until they were well clear of the rocky walls. Dorian turned and frowned as he tried to work out the best thing to do. He needed to find a way to slow and even trap the dragon while he figured out how he could force an Old God into a form that could be killed in the Fade.

Before he had a chance to do anything, the Fade shifted and shuddered around them and they found themselves into a large stone-walled room. There were two doors on either side and stairs leading down to a closed door just in front of them. There was an odd curve to the room that made Dorian think that they must be a large circular tower of some description. He found out just how true that was when Cullen suddenly gasped and staggered beside him.

“The Circle,” Cullen choked out, his sword hanging loose in his hands.

When Dorian turned to look at the Templar he saw that Cullen was pale and shaking, his eyes wide and almost consumed with fear.

“Cullen?” Dorian asked, reaching out for the other man.

“Keep away, mage!” Cullen snarled, his hands rising in a defensive gesture.

Dorian’s first reaction was hurt but then he saw that wherever Cullen was, it wasn’t here and whatever he was seeing, it wasn’t Dorian.

“Cullen!” Dorian yelled. “You’re in the Fade!”

Cullen swung around then turned back to Dorian, his sword up and his shield at the ready. His face was suffused with fear and anger.

“No!” he growled. “Keep away, demon. I know your tricks.”

“Cullen, it’s me,” Dorian said, one hand outstretched. “It’s Dorian. I’m not a demon.”

Cullen sneered. “You think I’ll fall for that again?”

Dorian winced. _Again_? Which meant Cullen had fallen for it at least once. No wonder he’d been so traumatised by the whole thing. Unfortunately this wasn’t helping right now. He stared at Cullen for a moment then made a decision. He slung his staff over his shoulder and walked towards Cullen with his hands out almost in supplication.

“Cullen,” he said as calmly as he could manage. “It’s Dorian. I’m not a demon. We’re in the Fade, trying to fight Razikale. We spent the evening together and we kissed. They were some of the best kisses I’ve ever had. So sweet and beautiful. I want more of those kisses but I won’t get them if you kill me and make me Tranquil.”

Cullen flinched at the last word and he suddenly staggered, his sword and shield falling from his hands to clatter against the stone floor.

“Dorian!” he gasped as he fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands. “Maker! I’m so sorry.”

Dorian hurried over and knelt in front of Cullen, pulling his hands away from his face. “Oh, Amatus, you have nothing to apologise for.” He looked over his shoulder. “Is this…?”

Cullen nodded, a sick look on his face. “Kinloch.”

“Right,” Dorian said. “So this is the game Razikale is going to play.”

“Dorian, I don’t think I can do this again,” Cullen said, his voice wavering. “It was… bad enough the first time.”

Dorian grabbed hold of his shoulders. “You’re not going to have to do it again. You’re not a prisoner this time and besides…” He paused and affected an imperious look with a twinkle of humour in his eyes. “Don’t worry. I’m here. I’ll protect you.”

It dragged a weak laugh out of Cullen but Dorian was relieved to see that he seemed calmer and more focused on the here and now instead of whatever horrors his memories were serving up.

“Alright,” Cullen said. “I’m alright.”

“You’re not but we’ll go with that for now, shall we?” Dorian said dryly.

Dorian stood and held out one hand. Cullen took it and between the two of them, they got him to his feet. Dorian didn’t let Cullen’s hand go and instead reeled him in and leaned up to kiss him. Cullen stood unmoving for a moment then he sighed and relaxed into the kiss, his mouth opening when Dorian nipped on his bottom lip.

“Now I know this isn’t the real Kinloch,” Cullen murmured when they broke apart. He smiled wanly. “No one ever kissed me there. Well, no mage ever kissed me.”

Dorian’s smile was wicked. “But a Templar did? Oooh, how naughty. Tell me more.”

Cullen blushed. “It’s… not that important.”

“On the contrary, I think it’s very important,” Dorian said. “Was it a man or a woman?”

“Um, one of each,” Cullen replied rather bashfully.

“Delightful,” Dorian said, leaning over and picking up Cullen’s sword and shield. He offered them to the Templar. “Which one was better?”

Cullen took the sword and shield, his blush deepening. “The man,” he muttered.

“Better than me?” Dorian asked coyly.

Cullen rolled his eyes. Dorian nearly crowed to see it. He’d deliberately taken this teasing line in an effort to distract Cullen from the haunting memories that were threatening to overwhelm him and it seemed it was working. The Templar was definitely looking more relaxed and comfortable.

“We were sixteen, Dorian. What do you think?”

“I was quite a good kisser at sixteen,” Dorian pouted. “For all I know, he was as well.”

“You’re better,” Cullen said dryly. “Now stop fishing for compliments.”

“Never,” Dorian said with a grin.

Now that Cullen wasn’t panicking anymore, Dorian looked around. 

“Now, if I was an Old God, where would I be?”

“The Harrowing Chamber,” Cullen said flatly. “If it’s going to follow what happened during the Blight, then that’s where she’ll be. That was where Uldred was.”

“And where is the Harrowing Chamber?” Dorian asked.

“At the top.” Cullen shuddered. “We’ll have to go all the way up to the top.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Of course we do.” He raised an eyebrow at Cullen. “Well, you know this place. Lead the way.”

Cullen squared his shoulders and very firmly reminded himself that this was _not_ the real Kinloch and he was _not_ a prisoner. He raised his sword and shield and nodded towards one of the doors. “This way.”

They headed through the door and Cullen shuddered as he realised how realistic this facsimile of the Circle Tower was. They were in the corridor outside the apprentice dormitories. He could see the bodies of the slain apprentice mages when he glanced in the door and very firmly turned his head. 

“Grim,” Dorian observed. “And not just because of all the corpses. Did the mages really live like this?”

“The apprentices did,” Cullen replied. “The quarters upstairs are more private.”

“Ah.” Dorian chuckled. “You’d never see apprentices in Tevinter living like this.”

Cullen much preferred to look at Dorian than his surroundings and the conversation gave him ample opportunity.

“Why not?”

“Because most mages are nobles,” Dorian replied. “There are some dormitories for the lower class and former slaves but no noble born brat would deign to live in a dormitory with everyone else.”

“Like you?” Cullen said with the barest smirk.

“Exactly,” Dorian said, grinning. He grimaced. “Besides, knowing my luck, I’d have developed a ridiculous crush on one of the boys and gotten us both in trouble.”

Cullen didn’t really have an answer to that but they had reached the stairs that led to the next level. They headed up and found more carnage in the corridor and rooms. They were just passing the door to the Chantry when they heard a thin voice call out from inside the room.

“Cullen!”

The Templar hesitated and stared at the floor for a long moment then he looked over at Dorian. “It’s… it’s her.”

“Her who?” Dorian said with a frown.

“Solona Amell.”

“No, it’s not,” Dorian replied. “It’s not her because she’s not in the Fade.”

“Cullen! Help me!”

Cullen shuddered and Dorian made a decision. 

“Alright. We’ll go in but I want to hear you say it to me, Cullen. It’s not Solona Amell.”

Cullen swallowed hard. “It’s not Solona Amell.”

Dorian would have liked that to have more conviction in it but he was willing to take whatever he could get. He stepped into the Chantry with his staff at the ready only to find… a young woman. She was very pretty and looked scared. She stared at him with apprehension then when Cullen followed him in, the apprehension changed to relief and she hurried over to catch at Cullen’s arm.

“Oh, Cullen! Thank the Maker. I thought I was alone here.”

Cullen’s eyes were tightly closed. “You’re not real.”

‘Solona Amell’ pouted. “Of course I’m real. Cullen, how could you say that?”

Dorian wanted to take charge of the situation, to banish whatever this was masquerading as the Hero of Fereldan back to the deepest pits of the Fade but he couldn’t. He needed to see Cullen overcome this and he was fairly sure that _Cullen_ needed to handle this on his own, that Cullen _needed_ to know he could do this. So, as much as it went against the grain, Dorian waited to see what would happen. He was fairly sure he could control the situation if things went sour but he hoped he didn’t have to.

“Please, Cullen, won’t you open your eyes and look at me?”

Cullen shook his head then he swallowed hard and gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. Then he did open his eyes but Dorian was delighted to see the hard, flinty expression in them.

“You’re not Solona Amell,” he ground out. He raised his sword and struck out.

‘Solona Amell’ screeched and blurred momentarily until there was a desire demon standing where the Hero had been.

Cullen snarled and this time when he struck with his sword, the blow was true and it bit deep then severed the desire demon’s head from its shoulders. The head bounced twice before it vanished in a puff of smoke. The body stood where it was for a moment then it too disappeared into smoke.

“Well done,” Dorian said quietly.

Cullen slumped where he was standing and let out a shuddering breath. “It’s not the first time that’s happened to me.”

“Ah,” Dorian said, unsure of what else to say. He wasn’t sure whether he should really ask much about what happened to Cullen here. His curiosity was eating at him but what had happened was clearly horrible and he didn’t want to upset Cullen for the sake of his prurient curiosity.

“Let’s… just keep going,” Cullen said, turning away and stalking towards the door. 

Dorian hurried after him only to find Cullen waiting for him in the corridor. They made their way around the rest of the floor without incident but when they reached the next floor, they were attacked almost immediately by a group of corpses. Cullen gave a war cry and leapt into the fray. Dorian muttered imprecations under his breath and started casting spells. He’d never fought alongside a warrior before but after a few minutes he started to get the hang of it. He did wish he was better at casting barriers but Cullen seemed used to fighting without them.

When the last corpse collapsed in a heap of mouldering bones, they both stood there and just tried to catch their breath. When they were ready, they moved on, only to find themselves fighting Templars. After that, it was blood mages and then more corpses and finally some demons. They were leaning half against the wall and half against each other after defeating the demons when Dorian grounded his staff.

“We can’t keep on like this,” he said. “It’s just pure luck that we haven’t been injured and we’re both getting tired.”

“Can’t you do something about it?” Cullen asked.

Dorian shook his head. “I’ve tried but it’s too strong a construction. I can touch the edges but that doesn’t really help. The best it does is keep anything else out of the room while we’re fighting what is in the room.”

“Perhaps we can help?”

Both Dorian and Cullen pushed themselves off the wall with matching yelps and whirled around, their weapons at the ready. Standing in the doorway was Knight-Commander Galeria and behind him were four other Templars.

“Knight-Commander!” Cullen said with surprise, taking a step forward. “What are you doing here? _How_ are you here?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure,” Galeria replied as he and the others walked into the room. “I was asleep, having a lovely dream. Then an elderly man appeared and he said I was needed elsewhere. Then I found myself standing in the corridor outside this room.”

The other Templars nodded and Tacita said acidly, “Please tell me this isn’t the Fade?”

“I’m afraid it is,” Cullen replied.

“More importantly, what are we doing here?” Justinius said grimly.

“That is a very long story,” Dorian said. “But the short version is that Razikale wants to rise using me as her vessel and in order to stop her, we have to find a way to make her Tranquil.”

The five Templars just stared at Dorian for a very long moment.

“I’m honestly not sure I really want to know the long story,” Galeria said dryly. “I suspect I don’t.”

“I know _I_ don’t,” Lucius said. “I just want to know what we can do.”

“We need to get to the Harrowing Chamber on the top floor,” Cullen said.

“Unfortunately we’ve had a lot of opposition thrown at us,” Dorian added.

“Well, that’s something we can help with,” Caius said with a quick grin. “We’re very good at hitting things that get in the way.”

“Lead the way,” Galeria said with a nod to Cullen. “Let’s get this done.”

Dorian arched an eyebrow. “No asking why or what’s behind this?”

“Would it change anything?” Galeria said, matching Dorian’s arched eyebrow with one of his own.

“Probably not.”

Galeria shrugged. “Then there’s no point asking. We’re soldiers, Enchanter Pavus, we’re used to operating on limited information.”

Dorian ignored the grin Cullen was directing at him and shrugged. “Well, in that case, you’d better call me Dorian. Enchanter Pavus will be so awkward to shout in the middle of a fight.”

The Knight-Commander laughed and the Templars formed up behind Dorian and Cullen. They continued down the corridor and reached the next set of stairs up.

“The next floor is for the Senior Enchanters and the First Enchanter,” Cullen said. “Irving’s office was there and… I think the reports said there was a sloth demon up here somewhere. I’m not sure if it was this floor or the next one.”

They made their way up the stairs and from out of the first room burst a cadre of mages, both blood mages and otherwise. Cullen raised his shield and the Templars ran forward.

“Move back, Dorian,” Cullen barked as he joined the Tevinter Templars.

Dorian frowned and was about to protest when he saw the Templars preparing to do something. His eyes widened and he fell back hurriedly. As he watched the mages cast their first spells just as the Templars moved into action. Galeria had barked a few commands then he and Cullen began to move in unison. The other Templars fell into position to protect them and when Cullen and Galeria finished a wave of power flowed out from them and engulfed the mages, nullifying their magic instantly and sending them flying backwards.

The Templars charged forward and Dorian belatedly began to cast his spells. With the extra five warriors, the battle was over very quickly and Dorian was left staring at Cullen and the others.

“Okay…” he said tentatively. He pointed at Cullen. “I can understand why _you_ can do that but you…” He looked at Galeria.

The Knight-Commander smirked. “And now you know our secret. Not every Templar in Tevinter can do that, in fact very few can. But there are a small number of us able to use the abilities.”

“Why?” Dorian asked.

“Because sometimes they’re necessary.”

“I…” Dorian frowned and shook his head. “I’m not sure I like that.”

“That’s why you haven’t known about it,” Galeria said dryly.

Dorian grumbled under his breath but since no one else seemed to care about his concerns, he grimaced and pushed past the Templars to look in the room the mages had come from.

“Huh,” he said in a tone that brought Cullen to his shoulder.

“What is it?”

“Should this room look like that?” Dorian asked, pointing into the room.

Cullen frowned. “No. These rooms are rather well-appointed.” The room was blank, not just empty of furniture or anything else but the stone walls had an odd blurry blankness to them as though they’d been placed there as an afterthought. “The walls should actually be whitewashed.”

“Huh,” Dorian said again as he stared at the room and started poking at the edges of it with his magic.

“What does it mean?” Cullen asked.

“It means that Razikale is more vulnerable than I’d thought,” Dorian replied. “You’d think an Old God would be able to visualise a place like this in exquisite detail, even a room we might not even enter. But look at that.” He pointed to the wall again. “ _That_ is a weakness, not just in the Fade but in Razikale herself.”

“Why would she have a weakness like that if she’s so powerful?” Cullen asked.

“Maybe because she hasn’t fully woken?” Dorian suggested. “Or maybe because she can’t access her full power where she is? I don’t know but now I actually have some hope that we might just be able to beat her.”

He focused on the wall and very slowly a rip appeared in the stones. It looked unnatural as no stone should tear like that. Cullen frowned and placed a hand on Dorian’s shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“Testing something,” Dorian said absently.

The tear continued to widen and then all of a sudden there was a might roar and the wall snapped closed. Dorian would have reeled backwards if Cullen hadn’t been standing behind him but before either of them could react further to what happened, the Fade swirled around them and everything went black.

******

Cullen woke slowly, aware that he should be somewhere doing something and that it was important but he couldn’t remember what it was. He was also aware of the warm naked man nestled in his arms and curled up close to his chest and that seemed to make whatever he was supposed to be doing seem utterly unimportant. So instead, he nuzzled into the shorn hair on the side of Dorian’s head and sighed contentedly.

“Hmmm, Amatus,” Dorian said sleepily, shifting against Cullen in a way that had him groaning under his breath as his body reacted.

Dorian chuckled and undulated against him again. Cullen smiled and wrapped his arms around the mage tightly, pulling him tight against his body.

“Tease,” Cullen said in a low, amused voice.

“You love it,” Dorian replied, his voice full of warmth. 

“I do.”

Dorian nudged at Cullen until he rolled onto his back, taking him along for the ride. He lay on top of Cullen and rolled his hips into the man below him. Cullen threw back his head and moaned as he clutched at Dorian’s shoulders and moved against the other man lazily.

They continued the slow inexorable movement, neither willing to speed it up or otherwise break the relaxed mood that had been established, until first Dorian then Cullen cried out their completion. They lay there for a while until Dorian made a moue of distaste at the mess lying between them. He got up rather languidly and wandered into the bathing room, emerging with a cool wet towel. He cleaned them both off, tossed the towel in the direction of the bathroom then crawled back into bed. He arranged himself draped half on top of Cullen and they both settled down with contented sighs.

They lounged idly and a cool breeze flowed in through the open windows, causing the curtains to billow softly. Neither of them felt any need to get up or move and they lay there, exchanging kisses and caresses until Dorian finally rose to get a drink. He walked across the room naked and Cullen shifted so that he could watch. As he did, something niggled at the back of his head and he frowned. When Dorian turned around, goblet of water in his hand, he could see the same expression on his lover’s face.

“Were…” Cullen hesitated then propped himself up on one elbow. “Were we meant to be doing something?”

Dorian set the goblet aside and returned to the bed, his expression clearing. He sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled, one hand caressing Cullen’s cheek. “No, not that I know of.”

Cullen leaned into the caress then he sighed. “I’m sure…” He grimaced. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m forgetting something.”

“Did you have an appointment with the Ambassador?” Dorian suggested.

Cullen sat up. “No, it was something…”

“Cullen… Amatus…” Dorian leaned in a kissed the other man. “You’re worrying yourself over nothing.”

Cullen shook his head. “No… no, I’m not. There’s something we’re supposed to be doing, Dorian, but I can’t remember what it was.”

Dorian caressed his face and shoulders. “Cullen,” he said soothingly. “It’s alright. Look, what was it about?”

“I can’t remember,” Cullen said with frustration. He swung his legs around and sat on the edge of the bed next to Dorian. “I just remember it was important.”

“It can’t have been too important if you can’t remember it,” Dorian said with some asperity.

Cullen lurched off the bed and started pacing around the room, entirely unconcerned with his nudity. He scoured his mind, trying to work out what he was supposed to be doing… what they were _both_ supposed to be doing.

“It was important,” he muttered. “It had to do with the Circle and you and magic and… and…” He came to a halt and stared at Dorian intently. “Razikale.”

It was as though he’d hit Dorian over the head with a board. “Razikale?”

“We were…” Cullen’s frown deepened and he looked down at himself. He blushed when he realised he’d been storming around the room in the nude but he refused to allow himself to be distracted. “We were in the Fade,” he said with absolute certainty.

His eyes narrowed and he concentrated. A moment later, the room shimmered and he was wearing his armour and had his sword and shield in his hands. Dorian gaped at him then let out a curse and shuffled backwards on the bed.

“Kaffas!” the mage yelped. “What are you?”

“You mean _where_ are _we_?” Cullen said firmly. He still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on but he was sure of one thing. They were in the Fade and they were doing something important. He looked over at Dorian and steeled himself. “Dorian… I’m sorry.”

Dorian gaped at him. “Sorry for what?”

Cullen didn’t answer. Instead he gathered every ounce of strength and set every doubt he’d had about his abilities now that he no longer took lyrium and launched into Spell Shatter with everything he had. The effects burst out from him and dimly he could hear Dorian scream then the room shattered around them, blown away by the force of the Shatter and they were left standing – or in Dorian’s case, sprawled unconscious – in the Fade. Dimly in the distance he could see Galeria and the other Templars. He waved his hand and gave a shout and received a wave in reply.

He then turned his attention back to Dorian. The mage, dressed once again in his normal robes, was sprawled unconscious on the ground and Cullen kneeled down next to him, setting his sword and shield aside.

“Dorian?” he said, tapping the mage’s cheek. He’d done his best to direct the flow of the Shatter and had succeeded at least in part. Nevertheless, Dorian had caught a fair amount of it. He didn’t show any signs of physical injuries but he had to be hurting nonetheless.

Cullen sighed with relief when Dorian groaned and curled up on his side. He rested his hand on the man’s shoulder then ran it gently through Dorian’s hair until he finally opened his eyes.

“Maker’s balls,” Dorian moaned. “What _was_ that?”

“Spell Shatter,” Cullen said. “I’m sorry. I tried to direct it away from you but it’s not an easy thing to do.”

“I feel like I’ve been run over by a herd of druffalos,” Dorian said with a groan. He slowly uncurled and rolled onto his back again, wincing as he did so.

“Cullen!” Galeria said as he and the other Templars ran up to them. “What happened? You and Dorian just… disappeared.”

“Razikale decided to play some games,” Cullen replied with a grimace. 

Dorian sat up with a groan and Cullen hurriedly caught him and supported him. “She does the illusions better than the first desire demon I ever encountered.” He straightened a little and made a few low pained sounds. “But it was…” He looked at Cullen. “How did you know it wasn’t real?”

Cullen frowned then shook his head. “I don’t know. I just knew something wasn’t right. Maybe it’s because I’m a Templar.” His expression was somewhere between sour and wry. “We are trained to be wary of all things magical.” He hesitated for a moment. “And… there is some conjecture that we can be more resistant to demons. I’m not sure that’s correct but maybe my… experiences in Kinloch during the Blight helped. I… It’s not the first time demons have tried to fool me.”

His face had become pale and strained by the end of that and Dorian raised a shaking hand to brush his fingers along his cheek. A dangerous action with Galeria and the other Templars standing right there but as far as Dorian was concerned, Cullen’s peace of mind was worth far more than his dignity. Besides, there was still time to speak to the Knight-Commander and ask for him and his people to forget what they’d seen.

Assuming any of them survived this.

Except when he looked up, Galeria and the other Templars weren’t looking shocked or disapproving. In fact, when he met Galeria’s eyes, the man actually seemed to approve of what he was doing. It was… bizarre and Dorian was half-convinced he must be seeing things. They _were_ in the Fade after all.

“Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad you did,” he said, ducking his head so that he could meet Cullen’s eyes. A small smile graced his face. “Because I’m afraid I was rather enamoured of where we were and I don’t know if I’d have ever wanted to leave.”

He felt a sense of relief that he’d chosen the right thing to say when Cullen blushed and smiled shyly at him.

“I, uh… I rather liked it as well.” His expression became very rueful. “I think that kind of contributed. After… after Kinloch… well, it was too good to be true.”

Dorian chuckled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Cullen gave a brief laugh then he sobered. “Can you stand?”

Dorian considered that then nodded anyway. “I’d better. We need to get moving. You’ve probably set Razikale back on her heels for the moment but I doubt you’ve finished her off.”

Cullen stood and held out his hand. Dorian took it and let the warrior pull him to his feet. His knees buckled for a moment and he clung to Cullen until he felt he could stand on his own. He gave a shake of his head and rolled his shoulders, feeling at least some of the aches start to slide away.

“Maker, remind me to stay out of range next time,” he said, rocking his head from side to side and wincing at the way his neck creaked and cracked.

“It’s pretty rare that we fight with mages but we do still train for it,” Cullen said. “You’d better hang back if we face mages again. I don’t think any of us want to hit you by accident.”

Dorian nodded but before he could say anything, the Fade rippled and shifted around them and they found themselves back in Kinloch Hold, more or less right where they had been before their little interlude. This time, however, the stone walls looked solid and detailed and Dorian and Cullen exchanged glances.

“She’s putting a bit more effort into it now,” Dorian muttered.

“We should get going,” Cullen replied.

They headed back out into the corridor and this time Cullen and Galeria took the lead with Tacita, Caius and Justinius just behind them. Dorian hung back and Lucius took up a protective position at his side. But this time as they walked along the corridor, the rooms they passed were unnervingly empty. Nothing leaped out to attack them and by the time they reached the stairs leading up, they were all a little on edge.

Galeria pushed open the door at the top of the stairs and gave a startled glance to his right at the low sound of distress that escaped from the young man at his side. The room beyond seemed entirely benign and certainly it was empty of any threat. It was, if anything, an antechamber of some description and was entirely ordinary except for the shimmering purplish dome near the stairs.

They stepped inside the room and the others followed. That was when they all became aware that Cullen had come to a halt, his eyes closed and his muttering just audible.

“In this the truth is found. Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the Peacekeepers, the Champions of the Just…”

Dorian shoved past the Templars and moved in front of Cullen. He placed his hands on either side of Cullen’s face and gave him a small shake. He had a very nasty suspicion he knew what that dome was – Cullen’s prison. 

“Cullen!” He frowned. “Cullen, open your eyes. Look at me.”

For a moment, Cullen did nothing except keep muttering the litany then he slowly forced his eyes open.

“Amatus, this is not Kinloch,” Dorian said forcefully. “This is not real. We are in the Fade and that…” He gestured over his shoulder. “Is not for you.”

Cullen stared at him as though he was searching for some sort of truth. He obviously found it as he shuddered and let out a shaky breath. He dropped his head so that his forehead rested on Dorian’s shoulder and Dorian could feel the trembling that had seized him. He rested his cheek against Cullen’s curls and murmured comforting words.

At the sound of low-voiced orders, he looked up to see Galeria directing the Templars to do a quick search of the room. They avoided the dome with varying expressions of distaste and anger. Galeria moved so that he was essentially standing between Dorian and Cullen and the rest of the room, his back to them and his hands resting comfortably on the pommel of his sword, which he had planted point down against the flagstones.

“When we get out of here, you’re going to have to tell me what that word means,” Cullen muttered, his voice slowly steading through the course of that sentence.

Dorian blinked. “What word?”

“A… Amatus,” Cullen said hesitantly. He straightened them and ran a hand down his face. In doing so, he missed the startled and slightly panicked look that washed over Dorian’s face.

“I, uh… yes, when we get out,” he said weakly. He hadn’t even realised he was using it and that fact he’d done so completely unaware was… terrifying. And wonderful. But mostly terrifying.

Cullen seemed to pick up on at least some of that as he squared his shoulders and faced the stairs leading up.

“The Harrowing Chamber is up there.”

Dorian grimaced. “I was hoping for a bit more time to figure out just what I’m going to do.”

Just as he finished that sentence an eerie howl came from below. They all exchanged glances and then Galeria’s expression became grim.

“You two get going,” he said as he gathered the Templars to him with a glance. “We’ll hold off whatever is making that sound.”

“Ser…” Cullen began but Galeria cut him off.

“Go.”

Cullen stared at him for a long moment then he nodded. He looked over at Dorian and the two of them headed for the stairs. They burst into the Harrowing Chamber to find that it was far larger than it had any right to be. Which was understandable when they looked at the enormous dragon crouching at the other end of the room.

“You are privy to a great Becoming.” The massive voice rolled across the room like a wave. “Do you see now? Do you see what you will Become? You are mine, Dreamer.”

Cullen growled and stepped forward, his sword and shield at the ready. “If you want him, you’ll have to go through me.”

The low rumble that thrummed through the room was intimidating but both Dorian and Cullen realised there was something else in it – an undercurrent of fear. Dorian realised, in a flash he could put down to little more than intuition, that Cullen’s actions in the fantasy dream world had unnerved the Old God. That perhaps, just perhaps, no one had ever seen through one of her Fade illusions before, let alone shattered them in the way Cullen had.

Which made sense in a way. The Old Gods had disappeared thousands of years ago, well before the establishment of the Templar Order, either in the north or the south. It was likely that their abilities had been developed around the same time, some of them anyway. Others had probably taken longer. But either way, those abilities weren’t something Razikale knew and more importantly weren’t something she knew how to counter. And Cullen had proven that they could even shatter a god’s magic.

What he didn’t know was whether _Cullen_ had realised that. Was his challenge based in little more than bravado or had he figured out his advantage and planned to make use of it?

“Come on then,” Cullen growled, slamming his sword against his shield in challenge. “Come and face me.”

“You will regret that arrogance, little warrior,” the dragon hissed. It stretched it neck up to its full length and screeched as its claws scraped on the stone floor, throwing up sparks.

“Find a way to force it into another shape,” Cullen barked. 

He turned and started charging across the floor towards the dragon, who was now turning to face him, snarling and spitting. Dorian watched in utter horror then gave himself a fierce shake. Cullen needed him to do this. Aquila had said he could. So he _would_.

He somehow managed to set aside his fear for Cullen and reached out for the Fade with his magic and from there began reaching towards Razikale. He could sense her shape in the Fade and then he saw something that he had never seen before. The thin trail of… something that lead into the distance. For a moment he couldn’t figure out what it was then he saw the same thing with Cullen and he knew. It was the thread tying their Fade selves to their selves in the real world. _That_ was what he needed to sever. 

He traced the thread up to Razikale herself and then felt the world abruptly shudder and shiver around him. The dragon screeched, a sound of pain and fear rather than challenge this time, and by touching the waves in the Fade, Dorian realised Cullen had used another of his abilities. Not the Shatter this time. This one felt different but there was no time to ask him what it was.

He grabbed at the threads of the Fade that formed Razikale into the dragon. He could see how they were mutable, how it was Razikale’s will that formed them into the great dragon but he couldn’t see how to change them from the outside.

_Threads can always be unravelled._

The words hung in the Fade and Dorian recognised the voice. Aquila had said he would help how he could and a part of him marvelled at the power the elderly Dreamer had in this place even as he plucked at the threads of Razikale’s dragon form. He began to see what the Dreamer meant and he reached out for the first thread.

As he did, he felt the surge of vicious glee through the threads of the dragon form and he reached for the Cullen shape in Fade. Pain ricocheted through him and after a moment of anguish, he drew himself away. He needed to concentrate and if he wanted to help Cullen, his best way of doing so was to force Razikale into a lesser form.

So he reached for the threads and formed a knife from the Fade. It took only a nick for the first thread to start unravelling and he reached for the next and the next and the next to give them the same treatment. He’d expected some form of retaliation but Razikale was too intent on Cullen to notice until far too late. Dorian kept cutting threads until finally he hit some sort of critical mass and the entire dragon form became unstable and began to unravel. 

What Dorian did next he would later say was almost entirely instinctive. He grabbed the unravelling Fade energy and forced it into a new form. _Now_ Razikale had realised what he’d done and she tried to fight but Dorian had too much control of the Fade energy and he forced it into a new form. All Razikale could do was control the edges of what happened.

When Dorian finally let the Fade energies go, he could see the results of his work. The dragon was gone. In its place stood a woman but there Razikale had controlled some of the woman’s form. Razikale was tall, easily a good five or six inches taller than Cullen, and her skin was that of a dragon. But though she had forced her form to have wings, Dorian had managed to make them long and useless, more of a hindrance than a help. 

Razikale the woman formed a morning star and a shield and her rage and fury flowed through the Fade so that both men could feel it. From where he stood, Dorian could see that Cullen had taken a raking from the dragon’s claws along his side but there was no obvious blood and the Templar wasn’t favouring either leg or arm. 

When Razikale the woman moved, her inexperience in the form was obvious. She seemed clumsy and slow to react but her first blow, when it hit Cullen’s shield, was mighty and Dorian could see the other man stagger slightly under the weight of it and from the way his shoulder slumped, it must have reverberated unpleasantly up his arm and shoulder.

Dorian raised his staff and launched an attack at the Old God. The spell startled both Razikale and Cullen but it was the warrior who reacted faster. He lunged at the woman, launching into the age-old steps he’d learned as a trainee in the Order. Dorian worked around him but his attacks had two targets. His lesser attacks he kept for Razikale, more to distract and annoy her, giving Cullen openings that he took with alacrity. But Dorian’s fiercer attacks were at the thread that tied Razikale’s Fade form to her real form. It didn’t take her long to realise what he was doing but with Cullen on the constant attack, she had little time to defend against Dorian’s far more dangerous forays.

As they fought, Dorian saw the shape of what Aquila had meant when he’d said that if he’d tried to stand against Razikale alone, he would have fallen. There was no way he could have reformed Razikale without Cullen drawing her attention away from him and this two-pronged attack was… going to win. He drew in a breath when he realised that. Razikale was going to lose. He’d already reformed her in the Fade, something she had never had to deal with before, and Cullen had struck a blow to her confidence and herself with his Templar abilities. Time and humanity had moved on while Razikale slept and where once she would have dominated everyone, even here in the Fade, humanity had learned some new tricks. Razikale was weak from her millennia of sleep and from her lack of devotees to funnel power to her sleeping form and she had reached for something she did not have the power to achieve. 

But _only_ because neither was alone. If there was one thing Dorian was certain of, it was that if either of them had faced her alone, even in her weakened state, they would have failed.

That realisation gave him confidence and he sent a bombardment of fire spells flying at Razikale’s face. She screeched in pain and he saw that he’d managed to light her hair on fire then he turned his entire attention to the thread tying her to her real form. He gathered up what energy he could and lanced it straight at that thread. As he did, he saw Cullen lunge forward with his sword outstretched and just as his magic sliced through the thread, Cullen took Razikale’s head off at the shoulders.

For a long moment everything went still. Razikale’s head fell to the ground then bounced twice before coming to a halt. Utter silence flooded through the Fade then there was a low scream that slowly grew in strength and pitch until it became unbearable. Dorian clapped his hands over his ears and saw that Cullen was doing the same. Just as it seemed that the noise was going to overwhelm them both, it stopped and everything went black.

******

Dorian woke slowly, feeling a little disoriented. For a moment, his mind was a blank then everything that had just happened flooded back into his head and he sat up with a gasp. He looked around frantically and saw that he was in his bed in his rooms at the Circle. Next to him in the bed was Cullen, who was also just waking up. He saw the moment when everything came back to the other man as his eyes flew open.

“Did we do it?” Cullen asked, sitting up as well.

“You killed her just as I cut her connection to her real self,” Dorian replied. “Short of digging our way under the temple to find her, I… have to say yes.”

“Thank the Maker,” Cullen breathed. “That was not something I’d care to do again.”

Dorian arched an eyebrow and smirked a little. “I don’t know. There was at least one part that I quite liked.”

He chuckled as Cullen blushed a delightful crimson colour.

“I… um…” Cullen stumbled over his words then rubbed the back of his neck rather bashfully.

Dorian cradled one red cheek with his hand. “I know you wanted to wait and I’m more than willing to still do so but I confess I very much enjoyed that.”

Cullen’s face was still red but he managed to look up at Dorian. “I… so did I,” he whispered. “But I would like to wait. I mean, you said it’s always been about… sex for you before. I’d like to be… different.”

“Oh, Amatus, you already are,” Dorian said fondly.

Cullen cocked his head curiously and was about to ask a question when there came a knock at the door. Both men scrambled out of bed and Dorian went to answer the door. He relaxed a little when he saw who was outside and gestured for him to enter.

“Knight-Commander,” Cullen said. “Is... is everyone alright?”

Galeria nodded. “We all woke up. Lucius was knocked out and badly injured in the Fade but apart from a splitting headache, he seems fine now.” He looked between the two of them. “I take it you did it.”

Dorian nodded. “I think so. I guess I’ll find out when I sleep again.” He raised an eyebrow. “I take it you want the long story now.”

“Well, eventually,” Galeria replied. “I have duties to fulfil right now but yes, I am going to want the full story, especially if there still might be some threat to the Circle.”

“I don’t think there is,” Dorian replied. “But since you got dragged into the Fade with us, I guess you’re entitled to an explanation.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “And no one will know about your abilities from me.”

Galeria smiled wryly then nodded. “Thank you, Enchanter Pavus. We appreciate your discretion. As will the Archon.” He looked between the two of them. “And know that we will stand at your side against anyone who might choose to… oppose you.”

Dorian stilled and he felt the slight blush on his cheeks. He and Cullen had hardly been discreet in the Fade. He hadn’t cared at the time and he didn’t regret it now but it was… a complication, especially given his recent indiscretions.

“Thank you,” he said a little awkwardly. He could feel Cullen’s curious gaze on him and knew that _there_ was a conversation they were going to have to have that he wasn’t going to enjoy.

“After I get that explanation, we will make a determination about who else should be told,” Galeria continued as if the last couple of exchanges hadn’t happened at all. “The First Enchanter and the Archon will most likely have to be informed that we have a Tranquil Old God under the Circle. What they choose to do with that information is up to them but if the Darkspawn can still find and use her, then the idea that we might have the next Blight quite literally on our doorstep is not a good one.”

“I, uh… I know the Hero of Fereldan,” Cullen said a little awkwardly. “She was… she was an apprentice at the Circle before the Wardens took her. I could write to her and see what, if anything, the Grey Wardens might be willing to do to help.”

“Will they help Tevinter?” Galeria asked.

“I think so,” Cullen replied. “They care about stopping the Blight. Their purpose isn’t political. If we’ve located the next potential Archdemon, they’ll want to know.”

“Very well,” Galeria said. “It might be worth doing that no matter what else we decide to do.”

Cullen nodded and Galeria gave the two of them a nod. “I’ll leave you two to it. Join me this evening for dinner and we’ll talk.”

Dorian closed the door behind Galeria and leaned on it with a sigh. “Well, that went better than I expected.”

“You were expecting trouble?” Cullen asked.

“He did get dragged into the Fade and our little fracas against his will.”

“That’s a point,” Cullen replied then he shifted on his feet a little. “So what now?”

“We… do what we usually do, I guess,” Dorian said with a shrug. “Until this evening anyway.”

Cullen nodded and looked around for where he’d put his armour. Then he stopped and looked intently at Dorian before seemingly making up his mind about something. He closed the gap between them in a few short strides then pushed Dorian firmly up against the door and kissed him. This time the kiss was different. It was firm and confident and Dorian wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist, humming his approval.

Dorian smiled when they finally parted. “I definitely agree that should be part of what we usually do.”

Cullen smiled a little shyly then the smile turned into the smirk that Dorian saw so little of but liked so very much. “And… unless there are any rules about mages having to stay here, you’re more than welcome to join me at the embassy. We… don’t have any problems with two men being together.”

“No rules. Not for Enchanters anyway.” He laughed softly. “Who knew the barbaric south was more advanced in some ways than we are? I think I’ll accept that offer and I think Alexius will be more than willing to turn a blind eye as long as my research doesn’t suffer.”

Cullen’s expression told what he thought of that but he said nothing more than, “Good” before he pulled on his armour, shield and sword. When he was done, he kissed Dorian again then slipped out the door to head back to the Embassy.

*******

The dinner with Knight-Commander Galeria went well. The Templar was a suitably stoic listener and inclined to ask intelligent questions and not get overly excited. He did tell them that he intended inform the First Enchanter, the Divine and the Archon of what had happened and what was lying underneath the Circle building. He was certain that those worthies would want to question both Dorian and Cullen but he would let them know when and if that was required. They worried about that but set it aside for the moment. There wasn’t much they could do so ultimately worrying was pointless.

Both Gereon’s return and that of Aquila prompted Dorian to tell his mentor what had happened. Aquila had joined them for that meeting and Gereon had gone dead white when he’d realised the danger Dorian had been in before he’d became furious when Aquila had admitted he’d sent Gereon and his son away from the Circle.

“Maker’s balls, man! _Why_?” Gereon demanded. It was the first time Dorian could recall his mentor swearing and he carefully controlled his amusement.

“Because Razikale would have sought to draw in anyone close to Dorian,” the elderly Dreamer explained. “I knew that Knight-Captain Rutherford would be able to hold his own and even put one in the eye of the Old God but the rest of us would have been fodder, used to weaken Dorian.”

Gereon didn’t look appeased by that explanation but he had to accept it. “And why was Cullen any different?” he asked with a frown. “Dorian hasn’t know the man for that long.”

“Cullen is a Templar and his abilities were valuable against Razikale,” Dorian explained hurriedly then he winced when Gereon fixed him with a sharp look.

“Dorian,” he said warningly.

“Pah!” Aquila said with disdain. “What does it matter if the boy beds harts or hinds? The nobility’s asinine obsession with lineage and reproduction above happiness has done far more harm than good. We’re the only country that actually gives a damn. If we gave less of a damn and had larger families, we wouldn’t have this pressure on sole sons to make themselves miserable for the rest of their lives.”

Dorian gaped at the elderly Dreamer. The last thing he’d expected was to be defended and more.

Gereon sighed. “I don’t disagree with you in principle, Aquila…”

“Then I say again. Pah!” Aquila waggled a finger at Gereon. “That great Fereldan pup is good for Dorian and he’d not have succeeded without him. If the boy’s father is such a prude then just lie to him. Do him good really.”

Dorian stared at Aquila. “How… how did you know all of that?”

“I’ve been monitoring your dreams since you started training with me,” Aquila said unapologetically. “That dream of yours concerned me greatly. Don’t worry, lad. I’ll stop now that this thing is over.”

Dorian nodded, feeling a little disturbed that Aquila had been watching enough of his dreams to know where matters stood between he and his father. And even more disturbed and slightly embarrassed when he remembered the distinctly lewd turn some of his dreams had taken when they featured Cullen.

“Oh. Knight-Commander Galeria is going to speak to the First Enchanter, the Archon and the Divine about this,” he said, more in an effort to distract himself than anything else.

Aquila nodded. “To be expected though Maker knows what they’re going to do. Razikale is unlikely to be dead, just Tranquil and I have no idea how that will affect things if the Darkspawn find her.”

“Cullen is going to contact a Grey Warden he knows,” Dorian added.

“Probably for the best,” Gereon said with a sigh though his expression said he still wasn’t done with the subject of Dorian and Cullen. “If anyone will know what to do, it’ll be the Wardens.”

The conversation veered off into other subjects and before long Dorian excused himself to return to his research. As he did, Aquila engaged Gereon in a complicated debate on magical theory that distracted the senior mage entirely. Dorian smiled his silent thanks to the Dreamer and Aquila gave him a wink in reply.

He returned to his carrel in the library and scrubbed his face. He knew he’d only bought himself a short amount of time before Gereon was going to come back to the subject of Cullen. Unless Aquila could convince him to leave it alone and just lie to Halward Pavus. There was a slim chance of that happening. Maybe. Not that he was going to hold his breath. He was just going to have to take up Cullen’s offer of spending time at the Fereldan Embassy. As long as he was there in the morning for their meetings, Gereon could play the plausible deniability card.

He’d managed to lose himself in a book when someone cleared their throat beside his desk. He looked up to see a very nervous looking apprentice standing there.

“Yes?”

“Enchanter Pavus? There’s a messenger from the Imperial Palace asking to speak to you.”

Dorian swallowed and then nodded as calmly as he could manage. “Thank you.”

He set his book aside and looked down at what he was wearing. It wasn’t what he’d have chosen to wear to the palace but he doubted he had time to change. He hurried down to the Circle’s reception room and found not only the Imperial messenger but also Cullen, who was wearing the same formal uniform that he’d worn to the entertainment where they’d first played chess. Obviously he’d been permitted time to change or possibly even had been asked to change as he did not wear either sword or shield with this uniform.

“Thank you for responding so promptly, Enchanter Pavus,” the messenger said with a short bow. “The Archon has requested your presence for a meeting.”

Dorian nodded. “Of course. I can come immediately.”

The messenger nodded and gestured for Dorian and Cullen to precede him. Dorian exchanged a glance with Cullen and they left the Circle.

******

The meeting at the Imperial Palace was both just as intimidating as Dorian had thought it would be and far better than he feared. There had been a few sharp words to both of them about not informing the First Enchanter about the dreams in the first place but in the end, the news about Razikale overrode any other considerations.

The Archon and the Divine had grudgingly accepted Cullen’s offer to contact the Grey Wardens. From the tenor of the discussion, they ideally wished to deal with the situation themselves but finally conceded to the inevitability of seeking the expertise of the Wardens. Dorian thought that was just as well because from the expression on Cullen’s face, he’d already sent the letter to Warden Amell. The Grey Wardens were going to be informed no matter what the Archon and the Divine wanted.

They were finally allowed to leave after almost four hours, mostly due to the offices of the Knight-Commander who had largely kept the conversation on track and who had idly suggested that Dorian and Cullen were no longer needed for the decisions that were to be made. Galeria gave a nod to Cullen that both young men took to mean that he would fill in the Fereldan at a later point and they escaped the palace with a sense of relief.

It was a relief that lasted almost four days. They were playing chess together in the courtyard of the Fereldan Embassy when a messenger came for Dorian from the Circle, saying that his presence was requested. 

Dorian grimaced and looked down at the chess board for a moment. He was actually in a position where he might win this game and he was reluctant to leave.

“Who is it?”

“Your father, my Lord,” the servant said.

Dorian froze and Cullen nodded a dismissal to the servant. Once the man was gone, Cullen came round the table and kneeled next to Dorian’s chair. He took hold of one of Dorian’s hands and tried not to feel hurt when the mage snatched it away.

“I… sorry,” Dorian said, brushing his fingers along Cullen’s cheek. He looked miserable. “It’s just… my father…” He shook his head. “Bad memories.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Dorian stared at Cullen as he considered that. It was a terrible idea, an _appalling_ idea, and yet… it was a very attractive idea as well. Facing his father with his lover, a Southern Templar – in full armour no less – at his side? It was a glorious idea! And it could go so terribly, terribly wrong.

“Yes,” he said before he could overthink it any more than he already had.

They set their game aside and made their way to the Circle. From the set expression on Cullen’s face, Dorian had the feeling that the Templar had a few things in mind that he wanted to say to Halward Pavus and he was in two minds about whether to let him actually say them. He still hadn’t decided when they arrived back at the Circle and found themselves outside the private reception room that had been indicated. Dorian squared his shoulders and affected a nonchalant air then opened the door and sauntered in. He was aware that Cullen had dropped back and was allowing him to take the lead and he promised himself he would reward Cullen for that this evening.

“Father,” Dorian replied, barely managing to keep on the correct side of civil. “What brings you to Minrathous? I know it cannot be me.”

He felt a sense of sour satisfaction when his father’s face hardened momentarily. He didn’t see why he should make this confrontation any easier.

“Gereon has contacted me about what has occurred,” Halward said stiffly. “Is there a reason I had to discover my son is a Somniari from him and not from you?”

Dorian twitched a little. The Pavus line descended from the ancient Dreamers. This _was_ probably something he should have told his father about. 

“You said to only contact you about my research,” he said snidely. “This isn’t part of my research. Besides, I was a little busy trying to stop an Old God from possessing me.”

He couldn’t quite decipher what the expression was that flickered over his father’s face. Five years ago he might have thought it was worry or fear or concern but he doubted he’d ever get those emotions from his father again after everything that had occurred.

“Dorian…” his father began.

“ _What_?” Dorian exclaimed. “You’re proud of me? Well, guess what, Father? I haven’t changed. I’m still exactly the same person I was before this happened. I still prefer the company of men. Nothing. Has. Changed. You weren’t proud of me before, why would being a Somniari change _anything_?”

“Dorian, it doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Yes, it does, Father.” Dorian glared at his father. “I am not going to spend the rest of my life screaming on the inside just for your fucking legacy. I have, by some miracle, found a man whom I think I can actually love and, between the two of us, we took on an Old God and won. If you think you can cow me into going along with your plans then you are very, very wrong. I know my strength now.”

“I see,” Halward said quietly. He looked over at Cullen who was standing and watching both of them. He appeared calm but they could see the grim line of his jaw and shoulders. “And this is that man?”

Cullen came and stood beside Dorian. “I am.” He gave a small nod. “Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford.”

Dorian couldn’t help but notice that the normally polite Templar had neglected to add any kind of honorific when addressing his father.

“I am sure you are an honourable man, Captain Rutherford, so I am certain you will…”

“Stop.” Cullen took a step forward and rested his hand lightly on the pommel of his sword. “I’m sure that was going to be some sort of appeal to step aside for the honour of your family but you should know that I have no intention of doing so.” His face started to go pink but he showed no other signs of his emotions. “I love Dorian and I, for one, want him to be happy.” Halward Pavus’ face darkened slightly at that insinuation. “And as long as he is happy with me, I will stand by his side. Of course we shall be discreet but I will not forsake him for your archaic notions.”

Halward’s face tightened but his control slipped no further than that. “He is not even a mage,” he said to his son.

Dorian smirked. “And yet he managed to shatter an Old God’s illusions in the Fade. One doesn’t have to be a mage to have power, Father.”

The Magister’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the two young men standing so steadfastly side by side. “A Southern Templar…”

“Yes,” Cullen said and he stood tall and confident. While his nightmares still haunted him and left him wary and uncertain at times and the withdrawal symptoms still had the power to cut his knees out from underneath him unexpectedly, the events in the Fade with Razikale had also left him more confident in himself and his abilities than he had ever been before. Kinloch still loomed large but now he felt it was in his past rather than lingering in his present or staining his future. “I am a Templar from Fereldan with _all_ that entails.”

Halward Pavus went very still then he sighed and his shoulders slumped. “I cannot approve. I _will not_ approve. But I will not stand in your way.”

With that, he turned and left the room without another word. Dorian waited until the door had closed behind him before he let out a shuddering breath and leaned against Cullen. The Templar immediately reeled him in and wrapped him up in his arms, pressing a kiss into his hair.

“Are you alright?”

Dorian made a small sound that was somewhere between distress and contentment. “No. But I will be. He’s probably running off to disown me as we speak.”

“Do you care?” Cullen asked dryly.

“Not really,” Dorian replied. “I am an Enchanter of the Minrathous Circle in my own right. I am a Somniari. I’m known to the First Enchanter, the Divine and the Archon. I can stand on my own without the backing of my family.” Now a small smile appeared. “And I have you.”

“Yes, you do,” Cullen said, returning the smile. “And if worse comes to worse, I’m sure the Ambassador wouldn’t mind you seeking sanctuary in the Embassy. He’d probably enjoy it actually.”

“He is a very perverse man.”

Cullen snorted. “He’s a very strong-willed man who likes thumbing his nose at Magisters because he’s an Ambassador and knows they’re not going to touch him.”

“Ah, diplomatic immunity,” Dorian said lightly then he sobered. “We don’t have quite the same protection.”

“Let them try,” Cullen said grimly. “I can handle them.”

“My hero.” Dorian chuckled then reluctantly pulled away. “Now, weren’t we in the middle of a chess game that I was going to win?”

Cullen chuckled as they headed for the door. “In your dreams, Dorian. In your dreams.”


End file.
